


Don't Die in Norwalk

by Ketch22



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bisexual Dean Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural) is Not a Virgin, Castiel and Dean Winchester First Meet, Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Dean Winchester Has a Crush on Castiel, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Led Zeppelin References, POV Dean Winchester, Pining Dean Winchester, Pink Floyd References, Rock Star Castiel (Supernatural), Rock and Roll, Slow Build Castiel/Dean Winchester, Slow Burn, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, bisexual charlie bradbury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2020-10-19 09:35:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 34,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20655035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ketch22/pseuds/Ketch22
Summary: Dean has lived the majority of his adult life doing what he wanted when he wanted, as long as he was still able to look out for his little brother, Sammy. That included who he wanted... girls, guys... he wasn't altogether that picky. But now he was almost thirty, and dating pressures from his family led to him settling down with a beautiful woman named Lisa Braeden. The only problem? He hates it. He hates being in a relationship, he hates having someone around 24/7 - especially since Lisa spends most of her time stealing his food and arguing with him about music. So when his best friend Charlie convinces him to go see a Led Zeppelin cover band, he takes that as a welcome distraction - until they return to that same venue the following week and he's introduced to the greatest distraction of them all - Castiel Novak, guitarist, vocalist, and general rock god. He's insanely good looking, talented, and entirely unavailable to Dean... until a spontaneous trip with Charlie puts them on a collision course that will change more than one aspect of Dean's life.





	1. I Can't Breathe Anymore (David Gilmour)

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to CeliPuff for the aesthetics!

Dean slid into the driver’s seat of his ‘67 Chevy Impala and leaned his head against the headrest. The day had been long, and it wasn’t nearly over yet. As if a thirteen hour shift at the garage wasn’t enough, now he had to go home and deal with Lisa. 

For all intents and purposes, he should be happy Lisa was at his apartment waiting for him. She was his girlfriend, for fuck’s sake. What kinda guy ain’t happy that his girlfriend’s around? 

The kind that’s way more into dudes than he lets on, that’s who. It’s not like he’d never been with a guy before. Hell, if he really had to put a number to it, he’s probably been with as many men as he’s been with women. His late teens/early twenties were a whirlwind of booze and sex - from pretty much whoever he could get it from. But now that he was nearing thirty, he seemed to only be attracted to the straight guys. That could seriously put a damper on an ego. Not to mention the fact that his dad was a grade-A dick sometimes, and to be honest, he was tired of getting that _ look _every time he brought a date to family dinner that happened to have similar hardware.

So, he was trying something different. For a couple of years, he’d been on his own. He’d been happy like that. All work and a little play here and there, but nothing serious. But as his family kept repeatedly reminding him, he was getting older and was no closer to settling down. 

Enter Lisa. She was smart, driven, beautiful, and most importantly - put up with his bullshit. She didn’t care that most of the time all he wanted to do was listen to music and work on his car. Baby was a dealbreaker - if someone didn’t appreciate his Impala, they didn’t appreciate him. And she did. And the fact that she was a yoga instructor opened up all kinds of doors into kinky sex he’d never dreamed of. That girl could fuckin’ _ bend. _

But honestly? He missed the freedom of being alone. Most of the time, he just wanted to crash on the couch after a long shift with a half-eaten box of pizza on his lap and his hand in his pants. Having a girlfriend - or boyfriend, for that matter - complicates that very simple little mission. He was tired down to his bones. 

His phone buzzed on the seat next to him. He opened his eyes and glanced at it, then swiped to answer and groaned a little overdramatically into the phone. 

“Whadduyou want, Benny?” 

“Well hello to you too, cher. I’m doin’ just fine, thanks for askin’.” Benny’s deep cajun accent soothed some of the irritation that was tensing Dean’s muscles and setting him on edge. “I called to find out how you were doin’. The last time we talked, you sounded a little… well, we’ll call it ‘stressed.’ You good, brother?” 

Dean shuffled around in his seat in an effort to right himself so he could start the car. “Yeah, man. I’m good.” 

“You’re stallin’ again, ain’t ya.” 

Dean rolled his eyes to little effect. “Shut up.” 

“Dean, why don’t you just tell the poor girl you just ain’t that into her?” Something on Benny’s end of the phone barked loudly. “Coda, lay down.” 

Dean grinned despite himself as he turned the key and the engine revved to life. “Y’know, still amuses the shit outta me that you named your dog after Zepp’s _ worst _album.” 

“Hey now, one of your favorite songs came off that _ worst album, _so bite your damn tongue.” 

His smile widened as he pulled out of the parking lot of the garage. It was true, Led Zeppelin’s rendition of Travelin’ Riverside Blues was one of his all-time favorite tunes, but that didn’t change the facts. “Yeah, whatever. You hear that, though? Not stallin’ anymore.” 

Benny chuckled. “Dean, makin’ a pit stop at the Roadhouse doesn’t count. Get your ass home, you know she’ll be insufferable if you don’t.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m not goin’ to the Roadhouse, El’s on vacation this week and I don’t think I can deal with Jo tonight. Y’know, this shit would be a lot easier if you hadn’t moved to fuckin’ Canada.” 

Benny had the nerve to sound offended. “I’m sorry that me having a personal life outside of you inconveniences you, brother. But seriously, you good?” 

Dean chewed on his lip as he waited for the red light in front of him to turn green. “Uh huh.” 

“Dean.” 

“Don’t ‘Dean’ me, Benny. I said I’m good, so I’m good, alright?” 

He could practically hear his friend put his hands up in surrender. “Okay, cher. Just know the longer you put off the break-up, the more it’s gonna suck for both of you.” 

“I didn’t say I was dumpin’ her.”

“You didn’t have to say anything. You forget I’ve known you for a _ looong _time. Just take care of yourself, ya hear? Give me a call if you need someone to verbally whoop your ass.” 

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, thanks, man. I highly doubt I’ll be takin’ you up on that offer, but I appreciate it anyway.” 

Benny hung up without saying anything else and Dean tossed his phone on the passenger seat. He only had another few minutes until he’d reach his apartment, so he put that time to good use and pushed Baby’s speakers to their limits. 

\------------

The rest of the week went pretty much the same, until Thursday. He was more relaxed at work, less irritable with his coworkers, and actually looking forward to going home for once. Thursday nights were girls’ nights, which meant Lisa would be gone for the night and Dean could do whatever the fuck he wanted to do (within reason.) 

He took a deep breath to savor the scent of unshared air as he walked into his apartment and then immediately beelined for the shower. Get cleaned up, maybe rub one out, grab some grub and pass out on the couch. A simple to-do list with a big fuckin’ payoff. He’d have time to get his mind right again and remember why he stayed with Lisa even when the whole situation made him uncomfortable at best. Distance always seemed to put things into perspective for him. It’d already saved their relationship on more than one occasion, and now it was becoming a weekly occurrence. 

His shower was… fulfilling, and he had just finished heating up some dinner his brother Sammy had brought over the night before when the doorknob turned. His stomach twisted as the door opened and Lisa walked in. 

“Dean!” Lisa beamed, quickly closing the door after herself. “Hey!”

He blinked, then glanced at the calendar hung up next to the fridge. Yep, it was definitely Thursday. “Uhh… hey, Lis. Aren’t you gonna be late to your girls… whatever?” 

“I just didn’t feel like going tonight. I missed you and thought I’d hang out here instead. That’s okay with you, right?”

Dean glanced down at his leftovers-for-one meal and looked almost longingly at the couch he’d been planning on dying on that night. “I mean, I know I’m cool and all, but it’s only been like twelve hours. You sure you wouldn’t rather be with your friends? You don’t see ‘em all that often.” 

Lisa shrugged and walked over to the fridge, opening it. Her eyes scanned the contents for a moment before she closed it again and sat down at the table, grabbing Dean’s plate. “I see them every Thursday, that’s more than enough.”

Dean couldn’t stop himself from muttering, “but six days a week isn’t enough time with me?” under his breath. She stole his friggen dinner, that had to violate at least six laws of nature. “I was gonna crash early, it’s been a long week and usually your girls’ nights are when I catch up on my beauty sleep.” 

“You can still sleep. I’ll sleep too. We’ll just sleep… together,” she grinned, shoving a bite of the leftovers in her mouth.

He shifted his weight and nodded, eyeing the food. “Yeah, that’s uhh… that’s fine. I’m gonna head in there, so just… come on in whenever you’ve finished _ my _ dinner.” He didn’t wait for her to answer, he walked straight into his room and silently cursed whatever god was supposedly hiding his cowardly ass in the sky. He was already in his pajamas, so he crawled into bed and closed his eyes. _ Yeah, feeling like this probably ain’t normal. Maybe Benny was right, I mean… what kinda person steals someone they love’s dinner? Guess it’s a good thing I took the rest of that pie to work this morning. _

Lisa didn’t take long to make her way to bed. Before Dean knew it, she was pulling the covers back and crawling in. He was torn between attempting a fake snore and just keeping his eyes closed in an attempt to make her think he’d already fallen asleep, but she apparently wasn’t havin’ any of it. 

The sex, at least, was worth it. He cared about Lisa - he did, truly - he just… also cared deeply about personal space, which was a concept she didn’t understand. It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t anybody’s fault. And, since she was here… 

He kissed her back when her lips met his, and he decided to see exactly how bendy she could get with a stomach full of _ his _food. 


	2. Blister on the Moon (Taste)

The next morning was awkward as they brushed their teeth in silence. In a lot of ways, Dean was worried he had gotten a little too… aggressive… the night before, but Lisa sure hadn’t minded in the moment. Now, she was glancing at him from the corner of her eye. 

“Lis...” Dean spit out the remaining liquid in his mouth and turned to her. “You’re not uh… hurt or nothin’, are you?” 

She shook her head and giggled a little as she leaned over the sink to rinse her mouth out. When she surfaced again, she raised an eyebrow. “No, Dean. You didn’t hurt me. I just… don’t think I’ve seen that side of you in awhile. I’m  _ definitely  _ not complaining, but… is everything okay?” 

Dean’s eyes found their way to her hand, which had found  _ its  _ way to his bicep. “Yeah, y’know… just stressed. Work’s been a nightmare recently. I’m good.” He wondered how many times he’d have to tell himself or others that before any of them actually started to believe it. 

She lightly squeezed his arm. “Okay. I’ll see you tonight then?” 

He nodded and leaned down to kiss her. “Sure thing, I should be home around nine.”  _ Six, actually, but I’m gonna squeeze a couple hours in for me time if it kills me.  _

She seemed satisfied with that answer and they finished getting ready in relative silence. Once he was out the door, he jerked his shoulders back to stretch them out and then cracked his neck as he got into the car - there was no way around the fact that he slept like an asshole when there was another person in his bed. Always uncomfortable, various limbs asleep after being used as boney, rigid pillows. Maybe he just needed a bigger bed. 

His Uncle Bobby owned the garage he worked at and was waiting at the entrance when Dean finally pulled in. “You’re late, boy.” 

Dean checked the clock on Baby’s dash and frowned. “I’m twenty minutes early.” 

Bobby clicked his tongue. “Which is ten minutes later than normal. You okay?” 

The urge to roll his eyes swelled inside of him so rapidly he nearly didn’t have a chance to stop it. But he did, which was good - Bobby was the most decent man he’d ever met, but had almost zero tolerance for sass. “Not for nothin’, but if one more person asks me if I’m friggen  _ good,  _ I’m moving to the damn moon.” 

“Jeeze, sue me for givin’ a damn. Get inside, Styne wrecked another antique.” 

Dean cursed under his breath. The Styne family consisted of a bunch of overgrown teenage boys with a penchant for racing their dad’s fleet of classic cars - and destroying them. “What is it this time?” 

Bobby winced. “You’d better just come take a look, I’m not in the mood to deal with your “shoot first - ask questions later” mentality. It’s in the third bay, I’ll be… well, I’ll be somewhere else.” 

Dean’s apprehension rose as he slowly walked into the garage and turned his attention towards Bay 3. There, in a mess of metal and bright orange paint, was the remains of a ‘69 Dodge Charger. His eyes widened and he practically screamed, “That son of a bitch wrecked the fuckin’ General Lee?!” 

The only answer he got back was the office door slamming behind Bobby. He walked around the car to survey the damage. “I swear to god, that kid’s gonna give me a heart attack one of these days.” He paused and looked around. “Great, now I’m friggen talkin’ to myself. Awesome.” He took the time to thoroughly document and photograph the damage, and then got to work. 

\-------------------------

What seemed like five minutes and an eternity later, his phone buzzed in his back pocket. He wiped as much of the oil and grease from his hands that he could and answered. “Yeah?” He tucked his phone between his cheek and shoulder and got back to work. 

A very cheery Charlie responded. “What are you doing this weekend?”

“Hiding. Maybe drowning myself in beer and porn, and not necessarily in that order.” He thought for a moment and then clarified, “who am I kidding. I’ll probably end up at a fuckin’ wine tasting or one of those…” he turned the tire iron he was using to tighten the lug nuts on the tire he’d just replaced and it slipped. “ _ Fuck.  _ Slam poetry night things. You know Lisa’s probably got every god damn second planned out in her head.” 

“That’s nice. Reschedule it all and come see Stairway to Heaven with me. They’re playing at River Rock.”

He dropped the tire iron to the ground and sat back on his heels, now paying much closer attention. “That’s the place Bobby’s been takin’ Sammy, ain’t it?” 

“I have no idea, and that wasn’t the point. Yes or no?”

“Look, kiddo. I’m guessin’ that’s a Led Zeppelin cover band, right?” She hummed an affirmative so he continued. “You know I’d never miss a chance to rock out to Zepp, even if it’s by a bunch of posers - but Lis ain’t really a fan. I’ll have to ask.” 

Charlie clicked her tongue. “Who said she was invited? Don’t bring her. Let’s just go, the two of us. You deserve a break from her, and what better way to relax than to rock out to Led Zeppelin with your best friend?”

“I’m not sure Lisa’d agree I deserve a break from her. Hell, you know she skipped out on girls’ night last night?  _ And  _ ate my damn dinner?” He knew he was bitching just for the sake of bitching at this point, but Charlie’s known him long enough he knew he’d get away with it. 

Charlie scoffed. “Yeah, because she’s freaking nuts. Her not liking Led Zeppelin is her own problem and she really can’t stop you from comin’ with me.” Charlie paused and then sighed. “Don’t make me go see them alone, Winchester.”

“Yeah, alright. I’ll talk to her. I’m guessin’ it’s tomorrow night?” 

“Yeah, tomorrow night. I’ll pick you up, we’ll go together. Don’t let her talk you out of this one, Dean. We’ll have so much fun, you’ll forget all about her psychoticness.”

Some part of him knew he should defend her. It really wasn’t Lisa’s fault, but… there were more pressing matters. “I’m not gettin’ into that friggen matchbox car you call a vehicle. It ain’t happenin’. I’ll pick  _ you  _ up, just text me the details. I gotta go, I’m still at work. That damn Styne kid wrecked the General Lee.” 

\-----------------------

The conversation with Lisa went about exactly as good as he’d anticipated, but it wasn’t all bad. At least he was going. And hell, maybe a concert was exactly what they needed to get back on the right track. Lisa rode shotgun in Baby as they pulled into Charlie’s and she bounded out of her apartment and stopped just shy of the passenger side door. He hadn’t had a chance to tell her Lisa was coming, and he could tell by the look on her face as she slowly took the extra couple of steps to the backseat that she wasn’t happy about it. She slid onto the seat and shut the door a little harder than necessary. 

  
“Hey, careful - this car’s worth more than your life, kiddo.” 

Charlie glanced at him in the rearview mirror and very obviously shifted her eyes to Lisa, and then back to Dean. “Sorry, I didn’t expect it to close so hard. Just like I wasn’t expecting a third person.”

Lisa turned in her seat as Dean started the car. “Why wouldn’t I come? Dean clearly wanted to see a second-rate band play second-rate songs, and I’ll support him even if his taste in music is… lacking.” She smirked and looked over at Dean, who was offended on too much of a personal level to even register that she was just trying to flirt with him. 

Charlie raised her eyebrows. “You really didn’t have to come to this one if they’re not your thing. I could’ve supported Dean on this one, you know, considering I actually  _ enjoy _ their music.”

Lisa just shrugged, but Dean noticed a gleam in her eye that usually signaled that she had an ulterior motive. “It’ll be fun. If nothing else, it’ll be nice to see him enjoy himself, he’s been pretty stressed out lately.” 

Dean’s grip on the steering wheel tightened and his foot pressed the gas pedal a little harder. The faster he got there, the better. 

Charlie smirked this time, watching Dean in the mirror. “Careful, Winchester. This car is worth more than your life.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but it would have been a lie. Baby was worth more than all of their lives. They settled into a brief silence that Dean took as an excuse to crank the radio, and actually managed to loosen up a little bit during the rest of the drive. Parking wasn’t really an issue, which was a surprising and very welcome change, and he felt his anxiety lessen as they got out of the car and headed towards the gate. 

Ten minutes later, they were set up just a few rows back from the stage. He knew Charlie and Lisa haven’t, didn’t, and would never get along, so he positioned himself between them and hoped that wouldn’t prove to be a mistake. 

The opening band started shortly after - it was a slew of classic rock covers that ranged from the Beatles to Guns N’ Roses and everything in between. They were pretty good, if Dean was being honest. It gave him a chance to drown out the rest of the world and get in a mood better fitting for someone that was about to hear some of his favorite songs performed live for the first time in his life. Sure, it wasn’t real Zeppelin. But John Bonham died when he was a baby, so there was never a chance he’d see his real heroes. This would have to do. 

During the intermission, they took a few minutes to explore the Amphitheater where River Rock was held. He was momentarily surprised to see there was an actual river - they’d come in from the opposite direction and completely missed it. It was kinda beautiful, if you ignored the run-down, crumbling buildings on the other side. The Amp wasn’t in the best neighborhood, but in rural Ohio, he wasn’t sure there  _ were  _ any good neighborhoods. The Amp was filled with food vendors, t-shirt vendors, and port-a-potties. After a quick trip to one of each, they made it back to their seats just in time for Stairway to Heaven to make their entrance. They were too close to the stage for Dean to fool himself into thinking that was actually a young Robert Plant working his way across the stage, but the hair and outfit was on point enough that he was sure the people towards the top of the Amp wouldn’t have the same problem. His real focus, however, was on the guitarist. Jimmy Page is one of the greatest there ever was, so if this guy was sub-par, it would ruin the whole thing. 

Ten seconds into Whole Lotta Love, he knew he wouldn’t be disappointed. The lead singer’s wail wasn’t  _ quite  _ Plant’s, but it was close enough. And while no guitarist could ever quite mimic Page, this guy made at least an impressive effort. 

With each song, Dean relaxed a little more. The crowd around him disappeared until it was just him and the four guys on stage belting his favorite songs. It was bliss, simplified. Live music always was, especially when it was good. The summer air was thick around him but whether that was from the actual heat or the energy of the crowd, he didn’t know. He didn’t care. One by one, Stairway to Heaven worked their way through Zeppelin’s greatest hits. The Moby Dick drum solo was good - not Bonham good, but let’s be honest… no one would ever get it Bonham good - and the guitar solo during the song the band stole their name from was even better. 

When the last notes of Black Dog trailed off and the lights on the stage blinked out, Dean felt… uneven. Thankfully, it was a feeling that didn’t last long - true to Zeppelin style, they only let the crowd carry on for a couple of minutes before the lights came back up and they encored with Dazed and Confused. That time, when the lights went out, they stayed that way. 

He finally remembered he wasn’t alone and turned to Charlie. He beamed at her. “Thanks, kiddo. That was… fuckin’  _ awesome.” _

Charlie grinned at him and crossed her arms. “I knew you’d like it.”

Someone tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned. “Oh, hey. Sorry, c’mon.” He put his arm around Lisa and pivoted them back around to face Charlie as the crowd started to disperse around them. “You have a good time, Lis?” 

Lisa shrugged and nodded once. “I guess so. As good of a time as I could have listening to a second-rate-band play second-rate-songs. Did you?”

Charlie cut in. “Do you  _ have  _ to be a bitch 24/7? Where’s your glitch?” Charlie pretended to look under Lisa’s armpits for the ‘glitch’, and dropped her arm unceremoniously when she didn’t find one. 

“Hey, let’s just - can you two get along for the next half hour, please? I just wanna make it home in one piece.” He turned to Lisa. “And yeah, to answer your question. I think I really needed that.” 

Lisa smiled at him, completely ignoring Charlie. “Good, Dean. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”

He looked once between the two of them.  _ Swear to god, chicks can find a way to ruin everything.  _ “Let’s just go, yeah?”

Charlie muttered something about how ridiculous this was, but she nodded and brushed past Lisa to the car. “Please. I just want to go home.”

Lisa turned to follow Charlie, and Dean shoved his hands in his pockets as he followed them out.  _ Well, that was short fucking lived.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you next Sunday! And I promise, there is a very Destiel point to all of this - it's just something of a slow, agonizing burn. :)


	3. The Dogs Of War (Pink Floyd)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a king-sized chapter. Happy Sunday!

The next couple of days were alright. Despite the tension at the Stairway to Heaven concert, him and Lisa seemed to be doing better. She gave him a little more space, and he was less antsy when she was around. Maybe live music really was the answer to their problems. Or, maybe it was just a band-aid over a wound that was never gonna fuckin’ heal - either way, it sounded like something he could put off or bury or both. Fake it till ya make it, right? 

He had just finished grilling some burgers for their dinner when Lisa came out of the bathroom. He turned to look at her and smiled lightly - her hair was wet and she had a towel wrapped around her. She really was beautiful when she wasn’t stealing his food or being a general pain in the ass. “Hey. Feel better?” 

Lisa smiled back and nodded. “Yeah, I feel better. I was worried I was getting sick. That would make this weekend suck.”

Panic rose in Dean.  _ This weekend? Am I forgetting a birthday or an anniversary or somethin’?  _ He wracked his brain and couldn’t think of anything she’d mentioned, and the date didn’t sound familiar. ”Yeah? What’re we doin’?”

She licked her bottom lip and then looked at him. “I’m going to see Comfortably Numb. You know them?”

He squinted at her. “I’m aware there’s a song by that name, but… no bands. This some kinda Pink Floyd shit?” 

“Actually, yeah. That’s exactly it. They’re a Pink Floyd cover band, just like Stairway to Heaven is for Led Zeppelin. Comfortably Numb is just… better,” she grinned and leaned against the doorframe. 

Dean rolled his eyes. “You haven’t even seen ‘em yet, they’re not better. They  _ can’t  _ be better.” 

“Well for starters, they cover Pink Floyd and not Led Zeppelin, so that automatically puts them in the lead.”

“Yeah, the lead in the ‘shittier band’ competition.” It was weak, and he knew it was weak, but he’d never in a million years understand how she could put Floyd above Zepp. It wasn’t…  _ natural.  _

“Is that the best you can come up with? Is the fact that Pink Floyd is better Led Zeppelin… triggering you? Are you getting flustered?” she grinned again, crossing her arms now. 

“I - listen - sh - do I look like a damn gun to you? I’m not  _ triggered,  _ I don’t even know what the hell that means. And no, I’m not flustered. Just confused as to how anyone could be so damn tone deaf.” He shoved Lisa’s plate a little farther towards her on the table. “Eat, maybe then your mouth will be doing something that actually makes sense.” 

“Have you ever really listened to Pink Floyd? I mean like…  _ actually  _ listened?” She sat down at the table, still in her towel. “I bet you’d like them if you pulled your head out of your ass and gave them a try.”

“Pot meet fuckin’ kettle, huh?” He shoved a too-big bite into his mouth and chewed loudly. What came out next was intelligible, which might have been a blessing in disguise. “‘Ou’re a un wi’ ou’re ead i ou’re ah.” He struggled to swallow and then changed course, pointing a finger at her. “I probably know more about your shit band then you do, and you don’t get to say shit about me not listening to them enough when I bet you can’t even name three Zeppelin songs despite the fact that you listened to twelve of them four days ago.” 

She scoffed and then placed her burger down, holding up her fingers to count. “Ramble On, White Dog and…”

“First of all, it’s ‘Black Dog,’ you uncultured swine, and second of all… time’s up.” He took another bite of his burger and grinned triumphantly, with little bits of burger and onion spilling out. 

“You do it, then. Name me three Pink Floyd songs,” she stated, narrowing her eyes at him. 

Dean set his burger down again and studied her for a moment. “Alright, I’ll do you one better. I’ll name five, the albums they were on, and the year those albums released. How bout that? Let’s see, we’ve got Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun, which was on Piper at the Gates of Dawn, released in 1967. Then we’ve got Brain Damage, on Dark Side of the Moon, released in 1973. Then Have a Cigar, on Wish You Were Here, released in ‘75. Pigs - three different ones, mind you, on Animals released in ‘77. There’s Hey You from the Wall in ‘79, aaaand Not Now John on the Final Cut in ‘83.” Dean paused and used his fingers to tick off the ones he’d named. “Actually, that was six.” He picked up his burger once more and finished it off.

Lisa just watched him and blinked for a while. “Okay, fine, you’ve given them a chance, but you haven’t listened to Comfortably Numb sing them. It’s a whole new experience, De. I’m telling you. And the lead band guy - he’s pretty cute which is just another bonus.”

“Lead band g- seriously, Lis? Lead band guy? I can’t even talk to you right now. And I don’t care how damn cute he is, he should get some better material.” He got up from his seat and grabbed their plates, taking them to the sink. “Does this mean I get to whine and grumble the whole time like you did for Stairway?” 

She stood and followed him, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind. “You’ll be too busy singing along to even get the chance.”

\----------------------------

Saturday rolled around and Dean kinda hoped it would just keep on rolling. The thought of spending the evening with Lisa poking him every time Comfortably Numb started playing a new song just to comment on how much she loved that song was giving him a headache. That should have been the biggest red flag of them all - there were few things Dean enjoyed more in life than watching people do or experience what they loved. Maybe it was just his lifelong beef with Pink Floyd, maybe it’s that Benny and Charlie were right and him and Lisa weren’t a good match. Maybe it was a flammable combination of the two that was sure to explode at some point. Hey, at least explosions were cool. 

His phone buzzed as he was getting dressed. He picked it up and smiled when he saw it was Benny.

**Benny: ** _ You in a better mood yet?  _

Dean rolled his eyes. 

**Dean: ** _ She’s kinda been awful this week. I dunno, it’s probably my own damn fault. We’re goin’ 2 another concert tonite, maybe that’ll help.  _

**Benny: ** _ Anyone good? _

**Dean: ** _ Floyd tribute band, Comfortably Numb.  _

**Benny: ** _ Since when do you like Pink Floyd? _

Dean chewed on his lip and rolled the phone in his hands a couple of times before deciding on a response. 

**Dean: ** _ I don’t. But she really wants to go, so I’m gonna go, and I’m gonna pretend to be happy about it. That’s how this shit works, right? You just pretend to be into the same shit and then you die?  _

**Benny: ** _ If that’s how it works cher, I’m glad I’m single.  _

Single. The word called to him like a siren’s song, and he hated himself for it. He tucked his phone in his pocket and grabbed his wallet and keys, then headed out to the living room where Lisa was waiting for him and tapping her foot. Her crossed arms and raised eyebrow did very little for his ability to  _ fake it till you make it.  _

“Hey, Lis. I’m ready to roll.” 

She snorted. “You better be ready to  _ rock  _ and roll.” 

He blinked. “You mean you changed your mind and we’re going to see a real band?” 

Lisa smacked his arm lightly. “Comfortably Numb  _ is  _ a real band. It was a joke.” 

“No,  _ that  _ is a joke.” He opened the front door and ducked out as she playfully tried to smack him again. She grumbled under her breath most of the way to the car. He chuckled, finally feeling a little bit more like himself. This was the Lisa that he enjoyed - the one that was feisty, not overbearing. Strong and funny, not needy and annoying. This was nothing but a rough patch, and they’d get through it. 

They always did. 

\---------------

About an hour later, they pulled into the park adjacent to River Rock. Sam and Bobby were already there somewhere, and so was Charlie. This time, they chose a spot right in the middle, just a few rows back from the stage. A girl with a voice that brought to mind nails on a chalkboard walked onto the stage and announced that there would be a different tribute band coming on first, this one for Styx. Dean could  _ definitely  _ get behind that. 

“Dennis DeYoung is a punk.” 

Dean looked at his little brother Sammy like he was an alien species. “Dennis DeYoung is not a punk, he’s Mr. Roboto, bitch! Just shut up and be happy it ain’t friggen Bieber or some shit.” 

Sam opened his mouth like he was about to say something incredibly stupid when the lights dimmed on the stage and the first notes of Renegade rang out through the amp. Dumbass comments forgotten, Dean decided at least he could salvage  _ some  _ of this night. He sang just about every word, and Lisa’s encouraging smile just egged him on. Maybe he danced a little, maybe he didn’t. Renegade bled into Too Much Time On My Hands, which he  _ definitely  _ danced a little to. He was on his feet by the time the Grand Illusion started, and hell… he was probably way too friggen into it when Mr. Roboto finally reached his ears. The sun was starting to set over the amphitheater, which meant it was finally cooling off. The tribute band ended with Come Sail Away, and the air around them was silent once more. 

“It’s almost time!” Lisa was practically vibrating with excitement. He grinned at her, because it really was good to see her happy. 

“Yeah, yeah. Is it over yet?” His words were said without any real weight to them, and he plastered on his best  _ gotcha  _ grin when her face started to fall.  _ Jesus, Dean. What’s wrong with you? Just let her have it. It’s not horrible… it just ain’t Zepp. Or Seger, or Styx, or CCR, or even real Floyd for that matter. _

Darkness fell fully by the time the intermission was over and Comfortably Numb was set up and ready to begin. The air was charged to a point that Dean actually glanced at the sky to see if there was a storm on the way. He’d been to enough shows to know that the energy of a crowd could mimic electricity, but for a tribute band? Nah. There was no way. And yet, the sky was clear. The moon lit up the ground and the countless faces surrounding them.

He closed his eyes and attempted not to hate it when the long, drawn out first notes of Shine On You Crazy Diamond began. He tried, he tried so hard to just sit there and shut up, eyes shut and mouth closed. But the song in itself is a hypocrisy - Pink Floyd wrote that song about Syd Barrett and how he went nuts - it was essentially a love letter to the original lead singer, and yet… they were half the damn reason Syd was insane in the first place. Sure, it probably woulda happened in the long run either way, Syd was… just a few screws loose. But Roger Waters fuckin’  _ knew  _ how bad Syd was getting, and instead of trying to get him help, he took the addition of David Gilmour as an excuse to pack up the band and leave for their next tour without Syd.  _ Piper at the Gates of Dawn  _ was basically just bargain bin Beatles, but still. Syd Barrett was a fuckin’ person and deserved better than to be cast aside for Waters and Gilmour and Mason and Wright to capitalize on the band  _ he  _ put together, just for them to turn around and make money off singin’ songs about him. It was bullshit and low, and the kinda shit Zeppelin woulda never done. 

He was in a ‘fuck Floyd’ rabbit hole in his mind that probably wasn’t gonna be permeated by anything at all. Not Lisa yelling her approval, not Sammy singing along, not that glorious fuckin’ guitar _ \- wait, what?  _

Dean was brought out of his thoughts but kept his eyes closed. To himself - and  _ only  _ to himself - he could admit that that was one hell of a guitar solo. It was slow and deliberate, but full of emotion and raw fucking talent. It might not have been actual David Gilmour up there, but whoever it was was giving him a run for his money, pun absolutely intended. 

Lisa nudged him around minute seven of Shine On. “Hey! The least you could do is stay awake!” 

His eyes snapped open and he went to tell her he was awake, but she was already walking away from him with Sammy. Bobby simply shrugged from a couple of seats down, and Dean crossed his arms.  _ You gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me. I do what she wants and she’s still pissy about it.  _

Charlie slid over to Lisa’s seat and gave him an apologetic look. The strobe lights flashed and drew his attention to the stage for the first time, and  _ ho-ly shit.  _ It took his eyes all of .4 seconds to seek out the source of that electric fuckin’ symphony of awesomeness, and his first instinct was that he’d done himself a huge disservice for wasting seven minutes with his eyes closed. 

He was tall, muscular but not obnoxiously so, with a tight shirt and a gorgeous guitar strung low, resting on his waist. His head was tipped back, revealing a neck that had Dean thinking things no one in a relationship should ever be thinking. His hair was dark and mussed in a way that made it look like the dude had just been backstage getting climbed by a groupie, but the real kicker was his expression. His bottom lip was tucked between his teeth, and he looked like he was gettin’ his dick sucked right there on stage by that guitar. That was bliss. That was loving what you do and knowing exactly how fucking good you were at it. 

The entire world narrowed down to that single guitarist. Was there an actual band on stage? Maybe. Probably, it would make sense. He was vaguely aware of a drum beat in the background, and yeah, yeah maybe a bass. Or a keyboard, or both. Who gave a shit. Was someone singing? Did he care? He found himself taking a step towards the stage to get a better look, but Charlie grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “Don’t leave me!”

He shrugged her off and then shook his head to bring himself back to reality.  _ Jesus, get your shit together. You’re like a lovestruck teenager. The  _ ** _last _ ** _ thing you’re ever gonna be in this world is a fuckin’ groupie for a Pink Floyd tribute band.  _ “Yeah, uh… sorry! I’m here.” 

Lisa and Sam returned with drinks and french fries. She offered some to him like an olive branch, and he took a handful of them. They exchanged a small yet genuine smile and he relaxed into his chair as his focus once more moved to the man that played guitar like a god. 

They played a few songs Dean hadn’t heard that he figured weren’t god awful, but certainly weren’t great - then they brought out the giant inflatable teacher and shit changed. It was creepy - big threatening eyes, an umbrella that looked more like a prison shank than anything, and long, spindly fingers that were the stuff of nightmares. Out of instinct, he nearly covered Sammy’s eyes. The entrance of that monstrosity was accompanied by Another Brick in the Wall (part 2, and in Dean’s eyes, the most irrelevant of all three parts), but it also came with another surprise - Mr. Guitar God could fucking  _ sing.  _ Why on earth they even let the other guy open his mouth was beyond him, and he knew he wasn’t the only one in the audience that felt that way. The cheers that erupted when he started singing practically drowned out the damn music, and Dean involuntarily started  _ shush- _ ing people like an old man. Lisa misunderstood his reasoning and grinned like a damn lioness that finally caught her dinner. She stood on her tiptoes to yell in his ear, “See! I knew you’d love them!” 

_ Not them, Lis.  _ ** _Him. _ **

Dean wasn’t sure he knew a whole lot about anything, but one thing was clear to him in that moment. Despite the countless number of concerts that he’d attended over the course of his life, he’d never seen anyone play guitar like him. Or enjoy it like he did. It was fucking intoxicating the way he seemed to drink in the energy of the crowd, channel it through his guitar and send it careening back out through sound waves that vibrated Dean to his core. He knew it was stupid and irrational, but some part of him felt connected to that guitar and the guy playing it - like the music was made just for his ears, and his alone. It was bliss, and it was apparently just beginning. 

Comfortably Numb drew him in with the heavy rock beats of some of Pink Floyd’s greatest - Money, Time, Run Like Hell - and maybe his new favorite, The Dogs of War. Then, like a string gradually wound tighter until it was just about to snap, he broke when that glorious rock and roll angel did a cover of Lost for Words. 

“Holy shit.” 

He hadn’t even realized he’d said the words loud enough to be heard until Lisa got up and walked away again. This time, it was Sammy leaning in. “Dude, you could be a little more subtle.” 

It was hard to make him out clearly in the constant barrage of the strobe lights, but Sammy looked almost… pissed? 

“Huh?” 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Jesus, Dean. I would give just about anything not to have to say this out loud, or ever freaking  _ think  _ about it again, but you’ve had a boner for like… the last half hour.” 

Something like embarrassment washed over Dean, which effectively killed the boner that he legitimately fucking had.  _ For fucks sake!  _

“It’s a good show!” It wasn’t a lie. All in all, he was impressed with more than just the one guitarist. Between the backdrops, the giant inflatables, the light show, and the videos making frequent appearances on stage, it was a good performance. And despite the fact that he wasn’t the biggest fan of Pink Floyd’s music, he’d be a liar if he said that the people on stage weren’t extremely talented. 

“You hate Pink Floyd!” 

_ Fuck.  _ “Just - shut up, it’s almost over. I’m gonna go find Lisa.” Dean got up and attempted to fix his jeans. Charlie caught up with him pretty quickly and fell into step beside him. They walked in silence until Dean came to the firm conclusion he wasn’t looking for Lisa at all, he was just trying to get away from the stage and the people -  _ person -  _ on it before all hell broke loose in his mind. He stopped far enough away that he could hear himself think, and turned to Charlie. “Too much?” 

She eyed him. “What the hell was that? Don’t get me wrong, I’m beyond freaking thrilled that you’re looking at someone other than your insufferable girlfriend, but right in front of her?” 

He frowned, running the evening back through in his mind. “Dude, it ain’t like I was suckin’ him off backstage. He’s a fuckin’ rock star, or close to it, it ain’t like anything’s ever gonna happen. She fangirls over John Stamos and that one dude from Friends all the damn time, how is this any different?” 

Charlie shook her head. “ _ I  _ don’t think you did anything wrong.  _ Pie  _ gives you a boner, it’s not as if this was some earth-shattering new occurrence. But yeah, De. She’s kiiinda pissed. I think it’s because you talked a boatload of shit on Pink Floyd and then all of a sudden, it was like she wasn’t even there and you only had eyes for Cass.” 

His eyes snapped to hers. “Cass?” 

She smiled mischievously. “You’re my best friend, Dean. You think I wasn’t gonna track down the name of the guy you were drooling all over? His name is Castiel Novak, I already sent a link to his Facebook page to your phone.” She winked. “Thank me later.” 

His stomach flipped and it made him borderline nauseous. “Already givin’ him nicknames, huh?” 

She giggled and then grew more serious, placing her hand on his arm. “Look, I know you. I’ve been to a gazillion concerts with you. You’ve never acted like this. Just… don’t take that for granted, yeah?” 

Charlie didn’t give him a chance to work out what she meant. She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek, said she had to go meet up with a friend across town, and left him standing there like an asshole - his dick at half-mast in his jeans from the sounds he could still hear reverberating throughout the amphitheater, a name to go with the guy that would fuel his fantasies for the next year, and a pissed off girlfriend lost somewhere in a sea of now screaming fans. 

The show was over, and so, he thought, was his relationship. 


	4. Lyin' Eyes (The Eagles)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a bit late but hey, it's still Sunday. Ginger Baker dying this morning threw me for a little bit of a loop and I kinda forgot. Anyway, here it is - and I promise the official meet isn't too far off ;)

The ride home was silent and awkward in ways that few things in Dean’s life ever were. Lisa wouldn’t even look at him. He was content to let her stay like that until they got home - he hated arguing with people in Baby, it was just bad form - but she had other things in mind. 

About halfway through the drive, she turned to look at him. “I can’t believe you’ve been a closet Pink Floyd fan this entire time and were just fighting with me for the sake of fighting with me.” 

_ What?  _ “Uh… that’s not - Lis, you can’t honestly think I’ve been fightin’ with you about Floyd just for shits and giggles.” 

He risked a glance at her. She looked sad, and now he felt like he was too confused to even know how to fix it. He was expecting a fight about the boner, not the interest he showed in the music. “I know that you know more about who plays what instrument and what year they put out what album than I do, but I grew up listening to Pink Floyd. The music means something to me, the same way Led Zeppelin means something to you. And you constantly shut me down about it. Which, when I thought you truly didn’t like Pink Floyd, it wasn’t a big deal - but now that I know that you have liked them this entire time? I just... that’s really shitty, Dean.” 

This was a trap, and Dean knew it. No matter how he answered, he was gonna look like shit. How was he supposed to explain to her that music resonates with him on a different level? That while she hears Another Brick in the Wall and wants to head bang or clap along, he hears Lost for Words and it settles into his bones? Dean was set in his ways about almost everything - politics, religion, basic morals, recycling, sports… but music was fluid. He was never so against a song or a band that he couldn’t take a step back and allow someone or something to cause him to listen to it differently. And sometimes, those slight perspective shifts can change everything. So when guitar guy-  _ Castiel -  _ laid into that solo, it knocked Dean on his ass and  _ made  _ him listen. With the initial barrier down, the bassline coursed through his veins, the drum beat settled into his toes and the vocals lifted him out of his goddamn body. Music was the only thing that could ever get him outta his own head, and yeah, he’d gone to River Rock that day with a bias against Pink Floyd - but he was a human being that was allowed to change his mind. He just had no idea how to fucking explain that to someone that put the Jonas Brothers and their pop beats that didn’t have an ounce of emotion in them on the same level as The Who. Lisa never dug deeper, she never cared to. 

“I’m sorry.” At the end of the day, it didn’t matter what she thought he did. It was all bad, no matter how you looked at it. That knowledge didn’t change a damn thing, but nevertheless, he apologized. 

“Whatever, Dean. Let’s just go home.” 

\--------------------------

A few days later, Dean still couldn’t get Castiel out of his head. He found himself listening to Pink Floyd songs over and over again until the music finally started to make sense to him. And if he pictured a tall, muscular god playing those songs instead of David Gilmour or Roger Waters, well… that wasn’t really his fault. 

He was sitting on the couch with Lisa and she was watching some dumb shit on TV, so he was scrolling through Facebook. He bit his lip and glanced at her, then finally clicked the link to Cass’s profile that Charlie had sent him the night of the concert. Seeing him up close nearly knocked the breath out of him. His eyes were the purest shade of blue he’d ever seen - they were  _ so  _ blue he was convinced it had to be some sort of a filter. There’s no way eyes like that just  _ existed.  _ A couple of clicks later, he found himself on Cass’s musician page. He was surprised to learn that Comfortably Numb wasn’t the only band he was in - he was also in an acoustic duo called Thursday’s Angel. There was a bright, shiny ‘booking’ button on the top of the page, and Dean couldn’t help himself. He knew he had absolutely zero reason to book Castiel for anything, but he had to admit he was curious. How much did someone like him charge? What did his schedule look like? There’s no harm in clicking on it just to see, right? 

Clicking that button only looped him back to Castiel’s normal profile page.  _ Damnit.  _ He licked his lip and closed the app, glancing at Lisa again. She seemed to be engrossed in television, so he put his phone down and got up to make some popcorn. He heard his phone ding as he was putting the popcorn into bowls for the two of them, so when he plopped back onto the couch, he looked at it. 

** _Castiel Novak sent you a friend request. _ **

He nearly shit his pants. He dropped his phone and made an entirely unattractive noise somewhere between a yelp and a sigh, which drew Lisa’s attention. 

“You okay?” 

He swallowed, not knowing quite how to answer. “Uhh, yeah. You remember that guitarist from Comfortably Numb?” She nodded. “He uhh… well, you ain’t gonna believe this, but he just sent me a friend request.” 

She snorted. “No he didn’t. Shut up.” She turned her attention back to the TV, and now Dean was a little offended. 

“The hell he didn’t! Look!” He picked his phone up and clicked on the notification, but when the app opened up… the friend request was gone. Lisa shook her head. 

“Told you he didn’t.” 

Dean went directly to Castiel’s page again, expecting the request to be there. It wasn’t. “What the  _ fuck…  _ I swear to god it was there just a minute ago!” 

Lisa paused the show she was watching. “You seem awfully upset it’s gone.” 

“Dude, wouldn’t you be?! That guy was awesome.” 

She smiled a little and resumed her show. “Ridiculous.”

_ No, what’s ridiculous is that I know for a fact that shit was there. Y’know what? Fuck it. Maybe he didn’t mean to delete it. Technology is stupid.  _ His finger hovered over the friend request button, and after a silent pep talk, he clicked it. 

Then he waited, and waited, and waited - but nothing changed. An hour later, the request was still sitting there. He sighed to himself, assuming that maybe it had been an accident after all. 

They spent the rest of the evening watching TV and eating junk food, which was Dean’s favorite way to spend an evening. Things were finally seeming a little more normal, although she kept glancing at his phone like it was going to develop artificial intelligence and kill them all. 

Everything was great until it was time to go to sleep. Now, he didn’t wanna say he was expecting sex, but… he’d kinda been expecting sex - and yet when they crawled into bed, Lisa rolled away from him. He knew things had been rocky so he didn’t want to push it, he simply slid in behind her and wrapped an arm around her. He kissed her temple. “Goodnight, Lis.” 

She didn’t respond. 

\----------------------------

The following morning, Dean received another notification - this one signalling that Castiel actually accepted the request. He  _ whooped  _ probably a little too loudly, and Lisa rolled over. Her hair was half covering her face and her voice came out gravelly with sleep. “What happened?” 

He triumphantly shoved his phone in her face. “See! Told you it was real.” 

She rolled her eyes and sat up. “Seriously, Dean?” 

Something about her tone sucked the excitement out of the room. “Yeah, uhh… sorry. Just go back to sleep. I gotta head to work, have fun tonight, okay? Be careful.” He kissed her as she grunted an acknowledgment of what he’d said, then headed out to work. He didn’t hesitate to send the screenshot of his new Facebook friend to both Charlie and Benny, who both responded much better than Lisa had. He had a sinking feeling that the conversation with Lisa wasn’t really over, but he was nearly done restoring the General Lee and Castiel Novak at least knew Dean Winchester was a person that existed on Earth (or at least social media) and that was enough to keep him in a good mood as he worked. Sammy stopped by to drop the list of textbooks he needed for the upcoming semester off to Dean, and the two had lunch. All in all, it was a pretty damn good day, and he knew he was in for a damn good evening, too. 

Lisa was finally at her girls’ night bullshit, so Dean had the night to himself. He had pizza and beer, and Benny on speakerphone. 

“I dunno, man. You shoulda been there.” 

Benny sighs. “You know if I coulda, I woulda.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m tellin’ you though, I’ve never seen anyone play like that.” Dean shoved about half of a piece of pizza in his mouth and leaned back in his chair. 

“They were really that good, huh? You like Pink Floyd now?”

He opened his mouth to argue and realized he couldn’t. “Uhh, yeah. I mean, that psychedelic acid trip shit ain’t for me, but the rest? It’s not bad. Still think Roger Waters is a dick though.” 

“Yeah? You and Lisa any better yet?”

“Depends on who you ask. I think we’re fine, but she’s been… I dunno. Kinda bitchy this week? I can’t seem to do anything right.”

“I’m pretty sure bitchy is just her personality.”

At this point, Dean didn’t really have an argument for that. “I don’t really think it’s her fault. I’m not the easiest dude to live with, y’know?” 

“Wait - she doesn’t even live with you, does she?”

He grimaced. “No, not technically. She’s here all the damn time anyway, but nah. She’s still got her own place.” 

“Then you’re allowed to tell her to get the hell out sometimes, y’know? Your house, your rules. Don’t let her eat your food anymore.”

Dean let out a breathy chuckle. “You haven’t met her, that’s a scary ass thought. I guess I just don’t wanna piss her off any more than she already is.” 

Benny didn’t seem convinced. “Whatever you say, brother.”

“Honestly, part of me wishes I was just… alone.” 

“Does this have anythin’ to do with you gettin’ a friend request from a certain guitarist?” 

He blushed, and was thankful Benny couldn’t see it. “Hell no. I haven’t even talked to the guy, I just think it’s cool. This doesn’t have anything to do with anyone other than me wishin’ I wasn’t in a relationship.” 

“Well, only you can make that happen.” 

“I don’t wanna hurt her, Benny. It’s not  _ that  _ bad.” He peeled a piece of pepperoni off another slice of pizza and picked it apart between his fingers. He was painfully aware they were traveling in the direction of a chick-flick moment, but he guessed that part of him hoped Benny would just tell him to suck it up so he had an excuse to bury it and move forward. 

“Again, Dean, whatever you say. If you’re able to convince yourself of that… more power to you.”

Dean squinted. Leave it to Benny to be both slightly condescending  _ and  _ unhelpful. “I don’t need to convince anyone of anything.”  _ Except for maybe convincing Castiel to give him a… private show.  _

Benny clicked his tongue. “I know that, Dean. But if you’re sacrificing your own happiness for something that you really don’t think is worth it… come on. You’re not expected to do that. No one is.”

He wondered if he could just hang up and make it seem like an accident. He knew he asked for this, but they were now getting into territory Dean was wildly uncomfortable talking about. “Nah, I’m good. We’re good. It’s… good. So good that I’m gonna hop off here and eat my pizza in the comfort of my own home with nothin’ on but boxers and a pretty face.” 

“Yeah, alright. Enjoy your pizza before Lisa comes around and eats it all.”

Dean simply rolled his eyes and hung up. 

\------------------

Later that night, Dean had finally fulfilled his mission - he’d passed out on the couch with an empty pizza box on his chest and a hand in his pants. That was short lived, however, because somewhere around 2 am, Lisa walked into his apartment. 

“Dean?!”

Her voice interrupted the  _ very  _ nice dream Dean was having and he bolted upright. “Huh? Who? Where’s the fire?” 

Lisa rounded the corner into the living room and crossed her arms. “There isn’t a fire.”

He blinked, trying to let his eyes adjust to the light. “Then why the hell are you yellin’?” 

“Because.” She moved towards the couch and stood in front of him. “This place is a disaster.”

He squinted and looked around the apartment. Sure, there were a few empty beer bottles on the coffee table, his clothes were in a pile on the ground next to the recliner and it did look a  _ little  _ bit like he’d thrown a house party, but what the fuck did she care? “What the fuck do you care? You don’t live here.” He almost immediately regretted his tone, but that had been a fucking  _ awesome  _ dream, and technically, what he said wasn’t a lie. 

Lisa blinked at him. “You got a boner for Pink Floyd.”

Dean wasn’t really sure what to do with that. Yes, it was… kind of true, but he thought they were arguing about how dirty  _ his  _ apartment was. “I - yeah, alright. So what? I figured you’d be thrilled I actually enjoyed myself.” 

“No one gets a boner from just listening to music.”

“Yeah, well I ain’t ‘no one,’ alright? People get boners for all sorts of weirdo reasons.” Dean stood up, all lingering good feelings from his night off now completely gone. He briefly considered cleaning up some of his mess, but one glance at the look on her face had him leaning the opposite direction. She knew better than to wake him up - he had a little bit of a short fuse. Kind of like a bear. So, instead of cleaning up, he dropped the empty pizza box right in the middle of the floor.

“You don’t even get boners from Led Zeppelin, Dean. You’re lying.”

He tried to gauge how willing to play ball his dick was. “That ain’t true. Put on Dazed and Confused.” He started pulling his boxers down, knowing damn well he wasn’t gonna get a boner from any song in the world, but hey. He could probably make it work. 

Lisa watched him and then rolled her eyes. “You know what? Fine.” She pulled out her phone and a few moments later, Dazed and Confused was playing through her phone speaker.

Dean’s eyes widened a little at the fact that she actually called his bluff. He closed his eyes, hoping it would just look like he was concentrating on the music and thought about every Busty Asian Beauties mag he’d ever seen - but the absurdity of the situation was making things difficult. He knew if he failed, he was gonna have two choices: lie and say he liked Pink Floyd better than Zeppelin (he’d rather stab himself in the ear) or admit it wasn’t the music at all that caught his dick’s attention. 

When half the song was over and nothing was happening, he opened his eyes. “I can’t perform under pressure like this, this doesn’t count!” 

Lisa stopped the music and then squinted at him. “Are you cheating on me?”

Dean felt a little bit like he got the wind knocked out of him. “Lis, what?” He attempted to take a step towards her and realized his boxers were still around his ankles. He pulled them back up quickly and closed the distance between them. “How could you even think that?” 

She didn’t answer him for a long moment, and when she did, she took a step back. “I don’t know. You’re just… different. Everything feels different.”

_ Different.  _ He’d been called that more times than he could count, but not even the vodka on Lisa’s breath could stop this one from stinging. “I’m sorry, Lis. I think I’m just stressed out cuz of work, and Sammy’s starting school again soon so I gotta get shit together for him. And this fightin’ shit’s not helpin’.” 

“Then why didn’t you just tell me that before? If it was really that simple, you would’ve just told me.” She backed up a little more and stumbled over the pile of clothes. “Something else is going on, Dean. I’m not stupid. Even the girls at girls night thought so too.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Lisa, your friends are idiots. They don’t know me, they don’t know us… they weren’t there. Why would you even listen to them?” 

“Because you won’t talk to me, and they will.” She looked away from him. “So, Cass is kinda hot, huh?”

Dean was pretty sure this was what whiplash felt like. He blinked, his eyebrows raised high. “What - how much did you drink tonight?” 

“A lot, but not enough to realize you’re changing the subject. Are you gay?”

Dean rubbed his jaw and tried to think of the best way to get out of this entire fucking conversation. “I don’t really see what that’s got to do with anything, but no. I’m not gay. I ain’t straight either, but you know that. You always have.” 

“Have you ever had sex with another dude?”

Maybe he should have just apologized for the mess and cleaned up his damn apartment. “Do we really have to do this right now?” 

“Yeah, Dean. We do. Answer the question.” 

His temper flared. “Yes, Lisa. I have. That what you wanna hear? You want the dirty details, like if I’m the pitcher or the catcher?” 

She just blinked at him and fell silent. She picked up his clothes and folded them in a neat pile on the armrest of the couch. “Am I not good enough for you? Is there someone else? Just - just tell me if there is, okay?”

He’d never even spoken to Cass, so it’s not like he counted in any real capacity. He closed the distance between them and looked at her. “I’m not cheatin’ on you, Lisa. Maybe we should have this conversation when we’re both sober.” 

She looked at him and then looked away again. “Okay, Dean. But…” she paused and then shook her head, backing away. “Nevermind. Sorry I woke you.”

“No, no. You don’t get to do that. Tell me what you’re thinkin’.” 

Lisa clenched her fists at her sides. “Is there something I should worry about with you and that guitarist?” 

_ You’ve  _ ** _got _ ** _ to be fuckin’ kiddin’ me.  _ “What? No! I’ve never even talked to the guy, Lisa. You wanna see the  _ lack  _ of messages?” 

“You could have deleted them.” 

“Where the  _ fuck  _ is this comin’ from, Lis? I’ve never given you any reason to think I’d run around on you like that. I’ve never even spoken to the guy, this is  _ crazy.”  _

Her eyes snapped to him. “I’m not crazy, Dean. You’re just an asshole. I’m gonna go.” 

Dean was confused and at least a little angry, so he wasn’t in a position to argue. “You either need to stay here or call a cab, you’re not drivin’ like this.” 

Lisa narrowed her eyes. “What do you care? You drive drunk off your ass all the time, and you never listen when I tell you not to.”

Something in Dean’s chest tightened. “That’s different. I shouldn’t do it, and obviously you know that too or you wouldn’t tell me not to. Give me your keys.” He held out his hand, keeping his eyes on her feet.

“No.” She backed up some more. “I’m going home in  _ my  _ car.” She turned and made her way towards the door. “Forget I even stopped by, okay? Pretend I was never here. Go back to your couch and continue dreamin’ about whoever you were dreaming about. I know it wasn’t me, don’t worry.”

Dean clenched his jaw and crossed the room, cutting her off at the door. “You can hate me for whatever made up reasons you want to- but you ain’t fuckin’ leaving like this.” He snatched her keys out of her hand and tossed them across the room, then picked her up and threw her over his shoulder and started carrying her to his bedroom. “You can leave in the morning once you’ve slept it off.” 

“Dean!” She smacked his back as he carried her. “Let me go! I don’t want to be here! Put me down!”

He couldn’t lie, it didn’t feel good having a fully grown woman throw a tantrum on his shoulder. He reached the bed and tossed her down as gently as he could. “Then I’ll call you a god damned cab - you’re not driving and this is  _ not  _ a fucking negotiation.” He walked away from her and slammed the bedroom door behind him, making his way out to the living room to retrieve his phone. He ignored the text notification from Charlie and started looking up the number for a cab company. 

Lisa opened the bedroom door slowly, looking at Dean from the doorway. “Dean?”

He didn’t look away from his phone. “What? Come to accuse me of somethin’ else?” 

She didn’t move any closer to him, but her voice was shaking as she spoke. “No I - I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have accused you. I wasn’t - I’m just sorry, okay?” She watched him, and eventually took a step out of the bedroom. 

“I found the number for the cab company. You wanna leave? I’ll call. You wanna stay? Go back to bed.” 

She stayed silent as she turned and walked back into the bedroom, closing the door after her. Dean let out a deep breath and put his phone to his lips for a moment. This was easily the dumbest fight he’d ever been a part of, and he lied more often than told the truth. Maybe he should have just ended it here, but… not when she was drunk. Not like this. He laid back down on the couch and stared at the ceiling for what felt like hours before finally drifting off to sleep again, and this time, his dreams were less than welcoming. 


	5. Heaven’s Gate (Rory Gallagher)

The next couple of weeks can only be described as radio silent. Cass still hadn’t said a word to him, and why would he? It wasn’t like they knew each other. Lisa had been distant, despite the fact that she’d still been in his face (and his apartment) every single fucking night. 

Mondays usually sucked, but lately he’d been thankful for the excuse to get out of the house. This particular Monday had been no different, especially when Lisa texted him and told him she wanted to talk to him about something when he got back home. Half of him - okay, maybe more than half - wanted her to just end things with him and save him the trouble. But she hadn’t seemed all that pissed off before he left for work, so he doubted that was the case. Either way, he was stressed out about it and his coworkers took notice. Bobby smacked him upside the head more than once for dazing out, and Cole threw about 6 lugnuts at him before he snapped out of it and came back to reality. This was incredibly unlike Dean, and everyone knew it. He was normally one of the best guys in the shop - always on time, his work was never flawed. He was quicker and better than pretty much all of ‘em, but his brain was just about fried. Bobby finally told him to knock off early before he hurt himself, so he did. 

He’d barely gotten into the car when his phone rang. He glanced at it, expecting it to be Lisa - she seemed to have fuckin’ radar for when he got off work early - but it was his mom. He took a deep breath and answered. 

“Hey, ma.” 

“Hey, Dean. How are you? I haven’t talked to you in a while.”

He smiled to himself. His mom had been gone for a few years overseas, and it was good to hear her voice. “Yeah, sorry about that. Work’s been kickin’ my ass. I’m good though, y’know me. How bout you? How’s dad?” 

“We’re good, Dean. We’re always good. Make sure you don’t overwork yourself, you need to take breaks sometimes. How’s Lisa?”

“Hey, I take breaks. I’m takin’ one right now, Bobby let me off early today. And she’s good, no complaints.” He hated how the words felt like a lie, but he definitely wasn’t in the mood to go all chick-flick moment with his mom.

“Are you sure? You don’t seem too convinced, Dean. Is something wrong?”

_ God damnit.  _ “Nah, like I said, ‘m just tired from work. Everything’s fine, don’t worry about it.” 

“I’m happy to hear that. So fine that… you might ask her to marry you soon?”

His body jerked and so did the car. “What?” 

“I’m just thinking, Dean, you’ve been with her for a while… and I’m not sure. Is marriage something you’ve ever considered?”

“Nope, can’t say I have. I never got the concept, to be honest. She hasn’t mentioned it either, so why bother, y’know?” He winced as the words left his mouth, because he knew how stupid it sounded.

“Why would she mention it? I think most women just… expect it. Maybe you should talk to her about it, then. Make sure you’re both on the same page.”

“Jess was up Sammy’s  _ ass  _ about getting married until he finally proposed to her. And I dunno, ma, maybe it’s just not a good time, y’know? We’ve both got shit goin’ on, and it’s not like we’re runnin’ out of time.” 

“You're not going to get any younger, and at some point I want grandchildren.”

Dean rolled his eyes so heavily they almost fell out of his face. “So call Sammy, he’s the golden child. You don’t want little baby Dean’s runnin’ around and you know it. Why don’t you ever hound  _ him  _ about this shit?” 

“I do, you know, because he actually calls me.”

And now he just felt bad. “I’m sorry, I know I should call more. But between work and Lisa, half the time I don’t get a damn second to myself. I basically eat, work, and go home and de-- spend time with Lisa, and that’s it. I barely even see Charlie anymore.” 

“The next time you have some free time, will you come visit me? We miss you.”

He’d visit his mom more often if she’d leave his damn father. “Yeah, mom, of course. I’ll talk to Bobby, see about maybe takin’ a weekend off next month. Sound good?” 

Dean could hear the smile in her voice. “Yes, Dean. That sounds wonderful, and make sure you bring Lisa. I miss her too.”

“You got it. Love you, tell dad… the same. I’ll talk to you later.” He hung up the phone just as he was pulling in the driveway, and apparently not a moment too soon. Lisa was on the porch waiting for him. He tossed his phone on the seat and slowly shut Baby down and got out. 

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just waiting for you to get home.”

_ Oh, this should be a fuckin’ riot.  _ “Well, Christmas came early. I’m here, what’s goin’ on?” 

“Well, I saw on Facebook that Comfortably Numb is playing again next month. Do you wanna go?”

He screwed up his face. “After the fight that shit caused last time? Why the hell would I wanna do somethin’ like that?” 

“Well, this time it could be just us, there’d be no need to fight.”

Dean screwed up his face even more. “Were you not there or somethin’, Lis? We were fightin’ cuz you got it in your head I was fuckin’ the guitarist, it had nothin’ to do with the other people that were with us - unless Bobby, Sammy and Charlie are all of a sudden a cause to fight.” 

She frowned. “So you don’t want to go?”

He flashed back to the fight they had about this the last time. He knew damn well the same thing would happen, so he shook his head widely. “Nope, sure don’t. You’re welcome to go without me, though.”

“I’m not gonna go without you, Dean. If you don’t agree to come, then I’m not going.”

This was insane. He knew it was insane, and that little fact was getting the best of his temper. “Are you shittin’ me, Lisa? You bitch at me for  _ hours  _ about my reaction the last time, and now you’re gonna turn around and make  _ me  _ the bad guy if I’m choosin’ not to let it happen again? Take one of your dumbass friends with you.” 

Lisa’s eyes widened. “Dean I didn’t - that’s not….” she swallowed hard. “I just thought it’d be nice to go and try again, that’s all.”

And now he felt like an asshole. Maybe he really  _ was  _ the bad guy. “Look, I can’t promise the same shit won’t happen again. I love music, Lis. Probably more than I love just about anything else. If you wanna go, I’m not gonna sit there and pretend I ain’t enjoying it, but I’ll go.” 

She smiled. “I’m not worried, Dean. It’ll be fine. Thanks.”

About a million red flags were going off in his mind, but he’d be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t happy she was smiling for once. He nodded and doubled back to his car to grab his phone. When he got back up on the porch, he kissed her and led her inside. “Alright then, I guess we’re goin’ back.” 

\-----------------------

Despite the peace he’d thought they’d made, the rest of the week was still awkward and overbearing. Dean was practically crawling out of his skin by the time his lunch break came on Friday afternoon. He’d long since finished the restoration of the General Lee, and Bobby had him doing a bunch of routine shit to a fleet of Dick Roman Enterprises company cars. It was boring and mindless and if something didn’t change in his life soon, he was going to lose his shit. 

His knee bounced relentlessly under the table he was sitting at outside for “lunch,” which basically just consisted of scrolling through Facebook and  _ very  _ occasionally bumming a cigarette off of one of his coworkers. Today was one of those days. He hated the smell, as a general rule, but sometimes the punch to his lungs felt kinda good. He took a long drag from it as his eyes flicked over the increasingly dumber posts on his newsfeed. After a moment, he was scrolling too fast to really comprehend what he was even seeing, until Cass’s picture popped up. He’d gone a couple of posts past it by the time it registered, and he scrolled back up. It was a picture of Cass with his guitar, looking inhumanly fucking gorgeous. He spent so long looking at the screen that he forgot about his cigarette, and the next thing he knew he was covered in ashes and swearing at himself as he flicked the remains of the thing away from him. “This is why I don’t fuckin’ smoke.” He brushed off his jeans and looked back down at his phone. According to the text that he’d finally realized accompanied the picture, Cass was doing a show just a couple of hours from him that night. It wasn’t Comfortably Numb, but apparently a smaller, acoustic duo.  _ More intimate, possibly less popular.  _ He bit his lip and called Charlie. 

Charlie answered the phone on the third ring. “Hey Dean.”

“Hey kiddo. You busy tonight?” 

“I’m not up to anything that can’t be rescheduled. Why?”

Dean hesitated. He knew there was no way in hell Charlie would tell him no, which might actually be a problem here. “Uhh… you up for a road trip? Just a couple of hours, nothin’ too crazy.” 

“Just a road trip? For no particular reason?” 

“Oh, there’s a reason. Always a reason. It’s…” He wasn’t sure why he was having a hard time just spitting it out, but he cleared his throat and tried again. “You remember that guitarist from Comfortably Numb?”

Charlie laughed a little. “Yeah, how could I forget. What about him?”

He silently cursed the sky that Charlie was so damn inquisitive. “He’s apparently in another band, and they’re playin’ tonight a couple of hours from here. Thought it might be kinda fun, it’s been awhile since you and I have hit the road like that.” 

Charlie was silent for a moment before she spoke up. “Is Lisa coming?”

Lisa. The death of all good things. “I didn’t invite her. I just found out about it a few minutes ago.” 

Charlie clicked her tongue. “Don’t invite her, and I’m in.”

That was gonna be easier said than done. “Alright. Show starts at 8, so we gotta leave around 5. I’ll pick you up, be out front. I don’t feel like dealin’ with your roommate.” 

“Yeah, alright. I’ll be ready. See you soon.”

He hung up the phone and decided to take the chicken shit way out with Lisa. He shot her a text and just said he was going out of town with Charlie to see a concert and he’d be back tomorrow. After that, he debated for a moment and then decided it’d be best to just stay out there for the show, so he booked the closest motel he could find to the bar Cass was playing at. At least it was cheap. He was about to put his phone away when a notification popped up. 

**Lisa: ** Where’re you and Charlie headed?

He stared at the screen.  _ Shit.  _

**Dean: ** Bar in Norwalk. There’s a concert out there tonight, and I think we’re just gonna crash in a motel so neither of us has to drive back. 

**Lisa: ** Oh, okay. Be safe, maybe call me when you get there? 

Dean knew he needed to get back to work, and she was basically giving him the greenlight to  _ not  _ tell her - but Dean just wasn’t wired like that. Sometimes he wished he was, but he wasn’t. 

**Dean: ** It’s that guitarist from Comfortably Numb, by the way. Turns out he’s actually in a few bands. But yeah, I’ll let you know when we check in. It’s a couple of hours away but we’re leaving right after work. 

He waited for her to respond but none came, so he shoved his phone back in his pocket and went back to work. 

\----------------------------------

Three hours later, he was clocking out and heading to his car faster than he had in months. He had four messages from Lisa, but couldn’t bring himself to look at them. At the end of the day, he really didn’t give a shit what she was saying. He was finally gonna have a chance to stretch Baby’s legs with his best friend by his side and awesome fuckin’ music waiting for him at the end of it. He blew every red light on the way to Charlie’s, and luckily for him she was actually waiting outside for him. He leaned over and pushed open the passenger side door as she slid in. 

“You ready?” 

Charlie tossed her bag into the backseat and shut the door. “Hells yeah, bitches, let’s do it!” 

He grinned at her and put Baby back in drive. He realized he still hadn’t looked at Lisa’s messages, so before he took off, he picked up his phone. 

**Lisa: ** Seriously, Dean?

**Lisa: ** You fought me about Comfortably Numb because you said you didn’t want to see him again, and now you changed your mind?

**Lisa: ** You know what, nevermind. I said I wasn’t worried about it, and I’m not. Have a good time, and please just be safe. 

**Lisa: ** ...Dean? 

He realized her messages were pretty spread out and the last one came just a few minutes ago. 

**Dean: ** Sorry, work got kinda crazy towards the end then I was picking Charlie up. We’ll be safe, don’t worry about us. I’ll talk to you later on. 

He tossed his phone on the seat between him and Charlie and popped in one of his Bob Seger tapes, letting the opening notes to Night Moves fill the car as he pulled out of her driveway and got back on the road. Charlie giggled as Dean danced and turned onto the main road, and finally -  _ finally -  _ Dean started to relax. 

The next day was probably going to be a clusterfuck, but at that moment? Dean couldn’t really bring himself to care. 

\-------------------------------

About halfway to Norwalk, Charlie looked over at him. “You’re not actually wearing that, are you?” 

He looked down at his dirty work clothes and his eyes widened. “Shit, I completely forgot. I was gonna take a shower before I left the shop but it slipped my mind.” 

Charlie pinched the bridge of her nose. “Well it’s not escaping my nose, you’re gonna need to take care of that when we get to the motel. You smell like a grease monkey. You brought other clothes, right?” 

Dean cleared his throat and pointedly looked away. “Yeah, ‘course I did.” She didn’t need to know he’d brought about half his fucking wardrobe with him, at least not yet. “Don’t worry, I’ll clean up before we go. Don’t know what for, but I will.” 

“What do you mean ‘don’t know what for’? You’re gonna meet  _ Cass  _ tonight!” She grinned playfully and pushed his shoulder, which just made him blush. 

“Shut up, no I’m not. Listen, I’m gonna sit towards the back, enjoy some good music, and hopefully make it back to this shitty ass motel in one piece.” Dean shifted in his seat and double-checked the GPS. They were still about an hour away, but his heart rate was increasing by the mile. 

“Uh… I hate to break this to you, Dean, but you’re  _ going  _ to talk to him. There’s no way we’re driving all the way out here just for you to decide to be a chicken.” 

He glanced at her direction and his mouth fell open. “You’re jokin’, right? This is you fuckin’ with me? Cuz that’s  _ exactly  _ what we’re doin’, we’re gonna go listen to some music and get our asses back to this motel, end of the damn story.” He couldn’t lie, the thought of talking to Cass was awesome - and completely fuckin’ terrifying. “What would I even say to him? ‘You guitar good?’ I’m not built for shit like that, kiddo. You know that. I prefer to just…” he sort of shrugged with his mouth and sliced a hand through the air. “Blend in, y’know? Mind my own damn business and go about my day.” 

“And what fun is that?” 

“It ain’t about fun, Charlie.” 

She clicked her tongue. “You’re talking to him. He’s going to remember you anyway.” 

“Yeah, alright, and I’m gonna win the fuckin’ Indy 500.” Dean rolled his eyes, but his stomach flipped at the thought in ways that he wished it wouldn’t. 

“I’m serious, Dean. You’re good looking, and that back-and-forth Facebook thing had to have been memorable. I’m calling it right now - he’s gonna remember you, and you two are gonna hit it off and then  _ maybe  _ you’ll finally have the balls to leave Lisa.” She crossed her arms and leaned against the seat, and he could actually feel her eyes boring holes into the side of his face. 

“You really don’t like her.” It wasn’t a question, because he didn’t need an answer. Charlie was always a little more in tune to how Dean felt than even Dean was himself - that was a fact he never chose to examine too closely, but in times like this, it was helpful. If Charlie didn’t like Lisa, it was solely because she knew Lisa didn’t really make him happy.

_ At least you finally said it out loud… in your head. She doesn’t make you happy. She never has.  _

He was vaguely aware that Charlie was responding to him, but that little epiphany threw him for a loop in his own mind and he was lightyears away from that drive. He clenched his jaw and tightened his grip on the wheel, reminding himself that no one had  _ ever  _ made him happy - it wasn’t Lisa’s fault, it was his. There was just something inside of him that didn’t work the way that everyone else’s did. He accepted it a long time ago, but his mom was right. He wasn’t gettin’ any younger, and if he could make Lisa happy… what the hell did it even matter if he was happy? His life had never been about him, and it had never made a difference before. Growing up, his mom was overseas and his dead crawled into a bottle, which basically meant it was up to him and Bobby to raise his brother Sammy. Bobby was great, but most of the time he had his own shit to deal with which meant it was all on Dean. He did his best not to complain, Sammy was one of the coolest little kids he ever met and it wasn’t like he really missed out on anything. So why should now be any different? His mom wanted grandkids and Lisa wanted a family. He could do that. He could. He had to. 

Except, he  _ didn’t _ have to. He was a grown man, capable of walking away. Capable of living his own life without listening to what other people wanted of him. Sammy was grown now, he didn’t have to answer to a single fucking person if he didn’t want to. 

_ And yet. _ God, living in Dean’s brain was a real bitch sometimes. 

“Umm… Earth to Dean?” 

He snapped his attention back to Charlie. “What?” 

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Where’d you go this time, Tatooine?” 

“Somethin’ like that. It was certainly friggen cold enough,” he muttered at the end. “We’re gonna be there soon, just put in Zepp II and shut your cakehole, alright?” He grinned at her in hopes that she’d understand he was just messing with her, and she seemed to. He’d played that tape so many times he knew exactly how many seconds to hold in the fast forward button to get to the start of Ramble On. He punched the play button and smiled to himself as the music washed over him and wiped the bullshit from his mind. 

\---------------------

He was actually pleased when he pulled into the motel’s parking lot. For $54 a night, it looked clean and didn’t seem to be in a shitty neighborhood, which was way more than he expected. Charlie seemed equally satisfied, especially when they got their bags inside and saw the state of the actual room. It only had one bed, but this wouldn’t be the first time they’d shared a bed. They’d been friends as long as Dean could remember, but despite the fact that they both swung both ways, she’d always been like a little sister to him. 

He tossed his duffle bag onto the bed and unzipped it, rifling through the mess of clothes he shoved in there and grabbing a pair of clean boxers, passable jeans, and a plain black v-neck t-shirt. Charlie gave him the judgy little sister look which he did his best to ignore as he snuck into the bathroom to shower. Fifteen minutes later, he had his boots back on and was standing by the door ready to go. “Good enough?” 

She eyed him, walking a slow circle around him like a vulture flies above prey. “That’s really all you’ve got?” 

He cocked his head back and clicked his tongue. “What are you talkin’ about, I think I’m adorable.” 

“Yes, Dean,  _ adorable.  _ It’ll do, especially because we’ve only got about a half hour until the concert starts and I’m guessing you’re going to want to get drunk first.” 

He nodded once, muttering, “yep, you’re damn right.” He snatched his keys from the nightstand and patted himself down for his wallet and his phone -  _ check and check. Alright, Dean. You’ve got this. Let’s go.  _

The bar Castiel was playing at was only about a mile down the road from the motel, so it took about a minute and a half to get there - not nearly long enough for Dean to settle his fucking nerves.  _ Just relax, man. There’s gonna be a shit ton of people in there, you’ll blend in, there’s no way in hell he’s gonna remember who you are… this is just like any other concert you’ve ever been to. You’re gonna be fine. Just blend into the crowd.  _

With that little pep-talk on repeat in his mind, he parked the car and walked towards the door of the bar with Charlie right behind him.  _ Just. Blend. In.  _


	6. Heaven's on Fire (KISS)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so, so sorry this took so long. Life has a funny way of kicking you in the ass when you're least expecting it. A lot of shit went right recently, but a LOT of shit went wrong. I can't promise this will be updated on any kind of a regular basis moving forward, but I haven't given up on it. I also effectively lost my beta, so this is the first thing I've ever posted that hasn't at least been glanced over by another human being. I hope all of my American readers had a great Thanksgiving, and thank you all for being patient with me. :)

There were a sum total of nine fucking people in the entire bar, including them and the damn bartenders. Nine. 

Dean turned a panicked stare towards Charlie. “How the fuck am I supposed to blend in now?!” 

Charlie grinned and pushed him towards the bar. “You’re  _ not  _ supposed to blend in, Dean. You’re supposed to stand out! Grab a drink then go grab yourself a rockstar!” 

Dean swallowed and slowly walked a little closer to the stage. Cass was still setting up, which was both a blessing and a curse because he felt awkward being so close when nothing was even going on, but watching Cass repeatedly bend over and kneel down wasn’t the  _ worst  _ sight he’d ever seen. Charlie definitely noticed him staring, because she kicked him under the table once they sat down and whispered, “knock it off, at least wait until he’s playing.” 

Dean blushed and took a sip of his beer, pointedly turning away from the stage to look at the rest of the patio. It was cute, for a dive bar. Little white lights connected two tall picket fences and there was a firepit in the center that one of the bartenders was trying and failing to get lit. Dean watched her struggle for a moment and then stood, circling around the table they were at to help her out. They had the fire lit in just a couple of minutes, and as Dean turned around and wiped his hands on his jeans, he made eye contact with Castiel for the first time. His heart was in his damn mouth it’d crawled so far up his throat, and he had to carry on wiping his hands because his palms were sweating from the heat this dude’s eyes were putting off. They were the bluest eyes he’d ever seen, and the pictures he’d seen hadn’t nearly done them justice. Lightning and fucking volcanoes warred in those depths, and Dean was trapped. He might have been rooted in that very spot for the rest of time if one of the two other musicians setting up with Cass hadn’t smacked his arm to get his attention. Cass turned away from Dean, and the night suddenly got much colder. He walked slowly back to his seat and felt like the world had shifted somehow, which was a mix of excitement and terror that he didn’t fucking ask for. 

He was nearly about to tell Charlie it was a mistake coming there when a slightly older guy came over and asked them if either of them had a lighter. Since Dean had just helped light a damn fire, he couldn’t very well say no so he fished it out of his pocket and handed it to him. 

“Thanks,” he said in a voice much gruffer than Dean expected. “Name’s Asmodeus, but you can call me Mo.” 

Dean smiled politely and nodded, taking in ‘Mo’s’ wild hair and bright white suit. It was ridiculously out of place, and Dean couldn’t help himself. “What’s with the whole Colonel Sanders thing?” 

Mo handed back his lighter and shrugged. “You never know who you’re gonna meet.” He winked at Charlie and sat down, making himself at home at their table. Dean wasn’t having any of it, but his voice box wasn’t cooperating the way his brain needed it to. “I manage the band, and two others. Need to look my best if anyone important happens to show up to one of these shows, not that I think they ever will.” Mo took a disgruntled look around the empty patio and turned to Charlie. “So, pretty thing. You just here for a night out on the town?” 

Charlie shook her head. “We’re not from around here, actually. We came from a couple of hours away.” 

Mo looked almost offended. “Why? There isn’t shit to do in this town but drink and make bad decisions. You two just passin’ through on your way somewhere else?” 

Dean opened his mouth to agree, because that sounded way better than the truth - but Charlie beat him to it - and said the exact opposite. “Nope, we actually came here to see the band. Well, Dean here came to see Castiel play - we’ve never actually heard the whole band before.” 

He could have killed her. It would have been easy - between hunting with his dad and Uncle Bobby growing up and the self-defense classes Sammy took and then insisted on recounting to Dean, he knew about 14 ways to kill something with his bare hands. By the time he quit daydreaming about the various ways he could end his best friend’s life, Mo was gone. Dean breathed a sigh of relief that was cut short by Charlie’s giggle. He snapped, “the hell do  _ you  _ think is so funny all of a sudden?” 

She looked over his shoulder and shook her head, barely concealing her grin. “Oh, nothing. I’m just the best best-friend in the history of best-friends.” 

Confusion and suspicion argued for Dean’s attention. “Huh?” 

She answered simply by pointing behind him. When he turned to look, he was met by Castiel’s chest. It was a great chest, even under the leather jacket and shirt he was wearing - but it was still a chest. Right in front of his face. That belonged to Cass. Dean looked up and probably hadn’t ever felt that small in his life, but he managed an “oh, hey.” 

Cass raised a single eyebrow. “Asmodeus tells me you’ve driven quite far, although he’s apparently under the assumption that you’ve come all this way to see  _ me,  _ so I’m not entirely inclined to believe him.” 

He swallowed. “Yeah, uh… don’t believe everything you read on the internet, right?”  _ What the fuck is wrong with you? ‘Don’t believe everything you read on the internet?’ That’s the best you can come up with? _

Cass frowned. “I didn’t read it on the internet, I just told you that Asmodeus informed me -” he paused and temporarily looked as awkward as Dean felt. “Ahh, yes. Sarcasm. My father told me I was born without that particular gene, which I just recently found out isn’t a gene at all. Perhaps we should start over… I’m Castiel Novak.” He bypassed Dean entirely and stuck his hand out to Charlie, who introduced herself and shook his hand. Cass then turned back to Dean, raising that single eyebrow once more and simply waited. 

“Uhh… Dean. M’name’s Dean.” 

Cass tilted his head in the most adorably confused gesture Dean had ever seen in his fucking life. “Winchester?” 

Dean swallowed. “Yeah, last time I checked. How --” 

“I thought I recognized you. From the… Facebook thing.” Castiel waved his hand flippantly as if that helped explain why Castiel even fucking remembered  _ the Facebook thing.  _

Dean hadn’t gone that red in a long, long time. His entire body flushed pink, and he was suddenly very grateful they’d gotten the fire going when they did - he thought there was at least a slim chance that the glow from the flames made his own embarrassment less noticeable. “Right. Yeah, sorry about that.” 

Cass pinned Dean to his seat with his gaze. It was surreal, having someone look at him that closely. Sure, he’d been stared at and gawked at before, he wasn’t blind - but this was different. Like Castiel was trying to see past all of that and work out exactly who Dean was in a matter of seconds. “Don’t apologize. I hope you enjoy the show.” 

And with that, Cass nodded once, turned on his heel and walked straight back to the stage. Dean blinked in surprise at the sudden departure and turned to Charlie, mouthing ‘what the  _ fuck  _ just happened?’ She shrugged, and the opening notes to a Jethro Tull song drew Dean’s attention to the stage. 

He was close. Decidedly too close, actually, and he quickly glanced around the patio to find somewhere else to sit -- but it was still so dead out there that he was pretty sure it would just look weird if he moved. He must have looked like he was in pain, because yet again Charlie kicked him from under the table. He grunted and shifted his weight on the bench as Mo chuckled from the seat he’d taken next to Charlie.  _ Mo’s too goddamn close, too. Plenty of room out here, why the hell is everything so goddamn close?  _

Charlie, in her defense, didn’t look like she minded at all. By the third song in the set, the two were practically on top of each other. “You guys want my room key or somethin’?” 

Mo had the balls to look taken aback by the question, and Charlie giggled. “Would you judge me if we did?” 

Dean said no, but every inch of his face said yes. Charlie rolled her eyes but backed a couple of inches away from Mo. “I’ll remember that later, Dean.” 

He opened his mouth to retort when “Behind Blue Eyes” by The Who began. His jaw went slack and he slowly lowered the hand he’d raised to point at Charlie while he scolded her. That song… that fucking song. Dean’s eyes might not have been blue, but fuck if it ever mattered - every inch of that song had Dean Winchester written all over it. He was subdued and mesmerized and calm and a live wire all at once. That voice. That song.  _ Those blue fucking eyes.  _

Once again, he didn’t know where to look. Did he look at the hands so gracefully moving across that guitar? The eyes that cut like spotlights through the night? The body that said guitar rested so damn perfectly against? Or the shoes, the fucking Chuck Taylor’s that for some ungodly reason made Dean’s stomach feel like a flock of coked-out butterflies.  _ Who the hell goes crazy over shoes? _

Nothing made sense, and by the time Thursday’s Angel launched into “Going to California” by Led Zeppelin, Dean was totally, completely, fucking enamored. He looked over at Charlie to see if she was as in love as he was, but she was gone. So was Mo. Dean stood to try and get a better look around the patio for them, but it was still almost completely empty. A couple of additional people had come outside, but he could see that Charlie wasn’t among them. His anxiety rose a little bit - Charlie didn’t drink much, because when she did drink, she did whatever the hell she wanted to do in any given moment with no regard to consequences. He loved her for it, but it also got her into a fair bit of trouble. He was just getting ready to go inside to look for her when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned, and was met with a slightly sweaty, gorgeous Cass. 

“Hello, Dean.” 

After his organs were done playing elevator in his stomach, Dean cracked a smile. “Heya, Cass. Guess even rockstars need breaks every once in awhile, huh?”

“I’m not a rockstar, but yes, we’re taking a short break. I was wondering if you’ve seen Asmodeus?”

“Asmo- oh! Yeah, Mo. I think he went off with my friend Charlie, I was just lookin’ for both of ‘em.” Dean licked his lips and fought a smirk as Cass’s eyes followed the path of his tongue. “So uhh… what do ‘not a rockstar’s’ drink?”

“Jäger.” 

“What, seriously?” Dean made a grossed-out face but Cass didn’t change his answer. “Alright, fine. Jäger it is. C’mon, we’ll look for Charlie and Mo while we’re in there.” 

Dean and Cass made their way inside of Charlie’s, and Dean couldn’t believe how busy it was inside. It was loud, packed, sweaty… everything he hated about clubs all jammed into what was  _ supposed  _ to be a dive bar. A quick surveillance glance told him their friends weren’t in there either, so Dean made his way to the bar with Cass following close behind. It took way too friggen long to get their drinks, but a few minutes later they were heading back out to the sanctuary of the patio with a few shots and a couple of drinks. They both sat down at Dean’s table like it was the most natural thing in the world, which must have thrown Castiel for a bit of a loop. “Um… I suppose I should have asked. Is it alright if I sit with you?” 

“Course, until Charlie comes back, that seat’s all yours if you want it.” Dean’s face broke out into a grin, which seemed to make Cass… angry, which in turn immediately made Dean’s smile disappear. “Somethin’ wrong?” 

Cass continued to glare at Dean. “You’re very… pretty. It’s frustrating.” 

He was so taken aback by the comment that he actually laughed, and then nothing in the world could have knocked the smile off of his face. “Yeah, I think I’m adorable.” 

“I should… get back up on stage.” Dean could tell Cass was still trying to hold on to some of that fake anger of his, but the corners of his mouth were turning up into a slight smile - and that was enough for Dean. 

“Nahh, I mean… the rest of the guys aren’t even back yet. Stay while. We need to take these shots, too.” He picked his up and nudged Cass’s towards him. He watched Castiel appraise the shot and then Dean himself, sigh quietly, and then pick the shot up. 

“What, exactly, are we taking this shot to?” 

_ Oh, I dunno. The color of your eyes? The way you play guitar? The fucking rock gods that led us here?  _ He tried to wrack his brain for something decidedly less creepy, and landed on, “To the long and happy lives of Ginger Baker and Eddie Van Halen, who are both currently trying to die and I won’t have it.” 

Cass actually fucking smiled so brightly it nearly knocked Dean off his chair. “To Ginger Baker and Edward Van Halen, then.” They  _ clink!’d  _ their shotglasses and Dean refused to take a chaser. That proved to be a poor decision, as his “Perfect!” came out as more of a cough. 

The answering chuckle it earned him was worth it. “Perhaps we’ll stick with your whiskey next time.” 

Dean nodded even as his stomach flipped at the thought of a  _ next time _ . “Yeah, that’d be great.” 

Cass spent another moment looking right into Dean’s core and then got up from the table to take his place on stage again. This time, he seemed relaxed and more animated - moving through some more upbeat songs like “White Room” by Cream. Charlie and Mo finally returned looking windblown, and Dean found himself hoping it was just from a trip around the block on Mo’s bike. Charlie gave him a quizzical look, which he simply just returned. She put on her best look of innocence and pretended to be interested in the stage - so Dean did as well. Only, he didn’t have to feign interest. 

Cass was gorgeous. Everything about him was sculpted like God himself sat down with the intent on creating the perfect human. Hell, Cass looked more like an angel up on that stage than he did a human. Even on that tiny stage on this insignificant patio mostly devoid of cheering fans, Cass looked larger than life. It came across in every movement, every note, every word. His stage presence was fucking palpable. They went on to cover Black Sabbath, Pink Floyd, Deep Purple, Ian Anderson, more Zeppelin, Elton John and fucking David Bowie. It was a roller coaster of a set with Cass constantly swapping his acoustic Gibson for his Fender strat and back again, his vocals loud enough to shake the fences surrounding them at some points and quiet enough not to disturb a mouse at others. It was gripping and moving and -  _ for fuck’s sake, he’s good at this. ‘Not a rockstar’ my  _ ** _ass._ **

Too soon and yet not soon enough, the set ended. Dean watched as the percussionist and rhythm guitarist/bass player tore down and headed for the parking lot, and was trying not to pay too close attention to what Cass was doing - but a big, big part of him wanted the guy to hang out for a bit. 

Luckily for him, Charlie had reached the point in the evening where she’d say anything to anyone. “Great show, Castiel! Come see us before you leave!” she yelled. 

Cass did just that, returning to us once his fleet of guitars were all packed away and safely loaded in the car. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. Thank you both again for coming such a long way just to see us, it means a great deal to me.” 

Dean’s chest tightened at the thought of him leaving. “Yeah, of course. It wasn’t that bad of a drive, honestly. You got a long ways to go tonight?” 

Cass grimaced. “I live in Cincinnati, so yes. I was planning on going back to Mo’s tonight, but as it happens, my other bandmates beat me to it. So my choices are sleeping on Mo’s floor or driving all the way home.” 

Dean knew what he wanted, he just couldn’t say it. For a hundred reasons, he couldn’t say it. 

Enter Charlie. “Cass, we’re staying in a motel just a few blocks down the road. You should stay with us tonight!” He was both grateful, embarrassed, and a little bit furious all at the same time. That is, until Castiel looked at him and said, “That would be great, if it’s alright with you, of course.” 

If Dean ever knew how to speak English, it all disappeared from his memory in that moment. “Uh - ye - s-- errr…. . yessir.”  _ Yessir? What the fuck is wrong with you?  _

Cass grinned maybe a little too knowingly. “Shall we go now, then? I don’t like the thought of leaving my guitars in the parking lot like this. I usually don’t stay after gigs.” 

Dean nodded. “Yeah, you can follow me over there.”

“Alright. I’m going to run inside so I can get our check. I’ll see you in the parking lot, Dean.” He strode off, and Dean watched him for a long moment before turning to Charlie. 

“And you?” 

Charlie squealed. “I’ll be fine, Dean! Go get your man! He’s right. There.” 

For the first time all evening, Lisa popped into his head. It must have written itself all over Dean’s face, because Charlie reached over and gently touched his arm. “Dean, your relationship has been effectively over for quite awhile now. Talk to Lisa when you get back home tomorrow. Tonight… just do whatever feels right.” 

He wasn’t half convinced he knew what that was, but he nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. You’re right… I think. I dunno, Charlie.” 

“Dean. Go. Now. He’s going to be waiting for you.” 

Dean bit his lip and inclined his head. “Call me in the morning, kiddo.” 

She beamed and took off towards the bar, and Dean headed for his car. 

_ What in the actual fuck are you gonna do, Winchester?  _


	7. On the Turning Away (Pink Floyd)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have another - we all need a little bit of cute Destiel communication right now, given how this current season is going... 
> 
> I 🖤 you all.

Dean paced in front of Baby for entirely too long. So long, in fact, that he was starting to think he’d imagined the whole damn thing and Cass wasn’t actually coming back with him. He was just about to give up and call Charlie when he heard the back door to the bar slam shut behind him. 

“Dean! Oh, good, I was worried you’d left already.” 

Dean swallowed and turned, plastering on a grin he hoped didn’t appear half as nervous as he felt. “Nah, I mean… I’d be lyin’ if I said I wasn’t gettin’ ready to, but… here I am. What happened in there?” 

He grimaced. “The owner of this… _ establishment _isn’t exactly the finest of our Father’s creations. He tried to convince me that Balthazar - our percussionist - already took our payment. I’m not even sure Balthazar knows we get paid for gigs like this… I think mostly he’s in it for the free alcohol and… freer females. Then, he changed his tune and tried to say we didn’t draw a big enough crowd to merit payment, and I had to spend twenty minutes explaining to him that people won’t show up to a gig they don’t know is happening, and that he’d have better luck if he actually advertised. We were booked last minute, I honestly don’t even know how you found out we were playing here tonight.” 

Dean’s cheeks flushed. “I uh… you shared it on your page, I happened to see it… Charlie happened to be free tonight… was just lucky, I guess.” Cass smiled like he genuinely meant it, so Dean continued. “You’re all set though, right? The bastard paid you? I can go talk to him if you need me to.” 

Cass took a step forward, and Dean was surprised that up close, Cass was actually a couple of inches shorter than him. What took took him by greater surprise was how any man of Cass’s average stature could get his voice to drop that goddamn low as he said, “I don’t need a bodyguard, Dean. I think you’ll find I’m adept at taking care of myself… and others as well.” A shiver of promise snaked its way down Dean’s spine as Cass continued, “Speaking of which… are you ready to leave?” 

All Dean could do was nod. “Uh huh.” 

Cass smirked and turned on his heel. “I’ll follow you.” 

Getting back into his car without tripping was an effort. He fumbled with the keys and ultimately got the car started, thanked whatever rock gods were listening that Jethro Tull was on the radio at that moment, and started driving back to the motel. His eyes were glued to the rearview mirror - mostly convinced this entire thing was some sort of cosmic joke, and that Cass would be turning prematurely and wouldn’t be coming back with him at all. But, would that be such a bad thing? After all, what good could possibly come from any of this? Sure, Dean was no stranger to one-night-stands. Sure, Dean knew he’d have the time of his fucking life. But at what cost? It would most certainly be the end of his relationship with Lisa… not that there was much left worth saving. But still, it would be _ his _fault and there’d never be any way out of that. Cass probably did this all the time, it wouldn’t have surprised Dean at all to learn that Cass had a different groupie every night of the --

_ Groupie. _

That word echoed in his head like an audible fucking nightmare. Groupies were loose chicks that were desperate for attention from any rockstar they could come across. Most of them were used up fast and thrown away, only to be heard from again as fuckin’ punch lines at parties. Dean Winchester was not a _ groupie. _

And yet, all the signs pointed right in that direction. Something like shame coiled itself in Dean’s stomach, and he was positive it had nothing to do with the whiskey he drank. He was so distracted by that horrifying thought that he missed the drive for the motel entirely and had to loop all the way around, and by the time he parked his car he’d convinced himself he’d just tell Cass nothing was going to happen and they’d sleep in separate beds. Except… they wouldn’t have separate beds. They had _ one _bed, which wasn’t a problem when it was just him and Charlie. But he knew Cass had a lot to drink as well, so making him drive back to wherever he came from wasn’t an option. 

He shut the car off and took a deep breath as Cass pulled in next to him. He did his best to avoid eye contact entirely as he opened the door and helped Cass carry his guitars inside. _ Great, Winchester. Now you’re a fuckin’ roadie, too. _

He set the last guitar down and shrugged off his coat as Castiel closes the door behind them. He heard the lock click into place, and then Cass said quietly, “Dean? Are you alright?”

Taken back by the question, Dean finally turned to look at him. He didn’t say anything, he just squinted and tilted his head in what he hoped was a passing “huh?” gesture. 

Cass closed the distance between them and laid a hand on Dean’s cheek. “You’re clenching your jaw.” A calloused thumb gently rubbed over Dean’s jawline, and all at once it was like the air from a thousand balloons was let out. Dean sort of deflated, but managed to relax his jaw in the process. 

“Yeah, y’know… just been a long day. I went to work before I came out here, and it ain’t like it was a short drive.”

“Where do you work?” Cass dropped his hand and sat down on the bed, but kept his eyes on Dean like he actually gave a shit about the answer. 

“Garage. Mostly routine shit fixing cars, but there’s this jackass rich kid that keeps totaling classics - I think I could make a living just from restoring those.” Memories of the General Lee flashed through his mind and all of a sudden, he was clenching his jaw again. 

“Do you like what you do, Dean?”

His eyes slowly drifted to the floor. “Yeah, I mean… it’s good work. Good pay… helps me take care of my brother Sammy. I don’t care for the routine shit a whole lot, but when I get a chance to take an absolute mess of a car and make her shine again?” He shrugged and leaned against the single dresser in the room. “There’s nothin’ like it. I get lost in jobs like that.” 

Cass smiled. “I bet your parents would be proud of you.”

Everything about that sentence seemed wrong. “Oh, they’re uhh… they ain’t dead.”

“Oh?” Cass’s eyes widened. “I assumed since you were taking care of your brother… I’m sorry, Dean. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.” 

“Nah, it’s fine. My mom wasn’t around a whole lot growin’ up and my dad… guess you could say he wasn’t _ around _a lot either. It’s been me, Sammy and Bobby pretty much since I was four.”

“Bobby?”

_ Why the fuck is this guy askin’ so many damn questions? _“He’s — do you actually care about any of this shit?” 

Cass sighed and stood up. “Maybe I should go.” 

“Huh? No, wait… what the hell just happened?”

It was a long moment before Castiel spoke again. “You seemed like you were genuinely interested in the music, Dean. I saw you singing along, even to the songs I was sure no one would recognize. Then, you were kind enough to wait for me and give me a place to stay so I didn’t have to sleep on someone’s floor. I… was simply trying to be genuinely interested in _ you.” _

_ Well, fuck me then. Shit. _“Sit down, Cass. You’re not goin’ anywhere.”

Cass sat, and the two sat in silence until Dean cleared his thoughts enough to continue. “Bobby’s one of my dad’s friends. He’s basically an uncle to us… hell, at this point, he might as well be our damn father. He’s my boss at the garage I work at, and if it wasn’t for him, I don’t know where we’d be now.” 

That earned him a small smile. “Thank you, Dean. I… get the feeling that _ sharing _isn’t necessarily a great strength for you, but I appreciate it. In my line of work, it’s hard to meet people that see me as anything other than ‘the guy in the band.’ Someone to gawk at and sleep with. I’m on the road constantly… sometimes I think this is the loneliest life I could have ever chosen.”

_ Okay, this is fuckin’ weird. Good weird? Yeah, probably. Still just… fuckin’ weird. Now c’mon, Dean. Don’t be a dick. Say somethin’. _ “I’m sorry people are so shitty, Cass.” _ Like you, cuz that’s all you were fuckin’ doin’. Gawking and tryna sleep with him. _

Dean wasn’t quite sure how it happened, but all of a sudden, they were _ very _close on that bed. Cass’s hand - the hand that drew such gorgeous fucking sounds from that strat - was on his cheek again. He didn’t even have to say it this time, Dean knew he’d never clenched his jaw that hard in his life. This time, however, with those insanely, inhumanly blue eyes just inches from him, he couldn’t bring himself to stop. His entire body was taut and his fist was clenched around the blanket in the tiny space between their legs. 

Cass immediately backed off. “I’m - I’m so sorry, Dean. I thought… I misread the situation.” He stood and moved across the room, leaning his shoulder against the wall pretty much as far away from Dean as the small space would allow. 

“No! Jesus, no, you didn’t misread shit.” With some breathing space between them, Dean relaxed. “I have a girlfriend. Her name’s Lisa.” 

“Girlf -- then I _ did _misread the situation, Dean.” 

_ Do something, Dean. _ “No, you didn’t. I want this, I want _ you… _ I — hell. Alright, you know how you said this life is probably the loneliest one you coulda picked? That’s how I feel about my relationship. It’s been over for awhile I just didn’t have the balls to leave her cuz she seemed happy. I’m bi, it ain’t like I’m not into women… but god, I fuckin’ hate bein’ with her. She doesn’t understand me, she nags at me _ constantly, _ she _ never _leaves me alone… fuck, I wanna kiss you so bad it’s stupid, I just… can’t. I shoulda dumped her before I even came out here, I just never thought you’d actually talk to me.”

Cass tilted his head, casting most of his face in shadow. “You are… strange, Dean Winchester.” 

He deflated. “Yeah, been told. Thanks.”

“It’s not an insult. You’re kind, caring, loyal… young with impeccable music preferences. Selfless and guarded… it’s just rare to see these days.” 

Dean scoffed. “You don’t even know me, Angel.”

“Angel? Is that a play on…”

“Yeah, it is. It was stupid and I immediately regretted it, let’s just move along.”

Cass shuffled back over to the bed and sat a respectable distance from Dean. “No, I… like it. I suppose we can add ‘cheesy’ to the list, then.”

“Hey, fuck off… the only _ cheese _around me is on a good friggen burger.” Dean’s look of offense softened when Cass started to laugh. It was infectious and intoxicating in a way that not even whiskey could be. He found himself grinning in response. 

“I don’t need to know you well to gauge what kind of person you are, Dean. Doing this as long as I have, you meet a lot of different people. Some might say I have sort of a… gift for reading people. And what I’m reading from you… is good.” Cass stood after it was made obvious that Dean didn’t have a single fucking clue what to say back to that. “Do you mind if I shower? You weren’t the only one that had a long drive to get here, and the spotlights always make me sweat.”

Dean shook his head. “All yours… _ angel.” _

The responding eyeroll made Dean snicker, and he watched as Cass gathered his things and disappeared into the bathroom. He was pleasantly surprised to find that he’d actually, truly relaxed, and instead of allowing himself time to overthink the entire situation - he decided to put on some music. 

Cass seemed to take forever in that shower, which gave Dean enough time to get through an entire Zepp album and start the beginning of Taste’s debut before he came back out. Dean was laying on his stomach tapping the drum intro to _ Blister on the Moon _on the bed when Cass spoke up. 

“You know Taste?”

He shifted his body to look over his shoulder at Cass, who was still dripping wet with a towel slung lower than his fucking guitar. He couldn’t stop the _ Jesus Christ _that escaped under his breath. “Uhh… uh huh. Yeah. It’s… yeah, Taste. Mmhm. Right here.” He pointed to his phone as the guitar solo started, and to his dismay, Cass started air-guitaring along with it. 

“Not many people have heard of them. What about Rory Gallagher?”

_ Blister _ gave way to _ Leavin’ Blues _and Dean nodded his head towards the phone. “Be hard to know Taste without Gallagher.”

Cass grinned. “You’d be surprised. Rory Gallagher is likely the best guitarist most people have never heard. He’s the reason I started playing, and he’s the reason I’ll never _ stop _playing. He was arguably the only musician of his time that did what he did purely because he wanted to share his music with the world. He wasn’t interested in fame or fortune or drugs or even women. It’s speculated that he died a virgin, actually, despite the constant parade of women - and men- that threw themselves at him.”

Dean sat up and tried _ very _hard to keep his eyes on Cass’s face. It wasn’t overly difficult if he was being honest, his hair was wet and clinging to his cheeks, and the five-o’clock shadow only served to further pronounce his eyes. “Yeah, well… that’s why he disbanded Taste. Became all about the money and the stadium shows, and Gallagher just wanted to play small clubs and venues and write his own shit without bein’ told what sells.” 

“You’re correct. His story is one of my favorites… I believe Zeppelin’s comes as a close second.”

Dean laughed. “Hell, I figured you’d say Floyd’s.” 

Cass rolled his eyes. “Roger Waters is an asshole. Just because I can pass as David Gilmour doesn’t mean I love their story.”

“Hah! Damnit, Cass. You got no idea the fight I started with Lisa over that shit. Fuck _ that _guy and the horse he rode in on.” 

The sound coming from Cass could only be described as a giggle. “Could you imagine Syd Barrett and Roger Waters in a western?” 

The absurdity of the thought had Dean nearly in stitches. He did his best to mimic Doc Holliday as he said, “I’m your Huckleberry!”

He snorted. “That’s one of the greatest movies of all time, don’t insult them like that.”

“Wait, you like westerns?” When Cass nodded, Dean grinned. “Better be careful, angel. I’ll have you up on stage in a cowboy hat.”

Cass raised a single eyebrow and dropped his voice. “Will you, now?”

All the blood in Dean’s entire body went straight to his dick. How one guy could go from playful and teasing to utterly fucking dominant in a split second like that was beyond him. “Maybe. Guess we’ll see, huh?”

Dean caught a glimpse of Cass’s smirk as the man turned to head back into the bathroom. He _ also _caught a glimpse of the most perfect ass he’d ever seen as Cass dropped his towel. “Mmm. I suppose we will,” was the last thing Dean heard before Cass closed the bathroom door. 

He took the few moments respite he had as an opportunity to change into pajamas himself. Normally he slept naked or just in boxers, but because he’d been planning on sharing a bed with Charlie, he’d brought actual pajama pants. He shrugged off his shirt and pulled on the pants just as Cass came back out similarly dressed. 

“So, you’re obviously attractive… good with your hands, you like westerns and hate Roger Waters. Is there anything else I should know about you before I share a bed with you, Dean?”

He contemplated this for a moment and then winked. “Yeah, I like to spread out.”

“Mmm. I can think of a couple of parts of you I’d like to… _ spread.” _

Dean felt his temperature skyrocket. Cass just smirked and walked closer, making the situation even worse. “Did you know you blush with your entire body? It’s… kind of adorable.” And yet again, those fucking hands were on him - this time on his very bare, very overheated chest. 

Dean swallowed and nodded. “Yeah, adorable. Keep tryin’ to tell people that.”

Cass dropped his hands and took a step back, but didn’t lower his gaze. “My apologies, Dean. I’ll keep my hands to myself for the remainder of our stay here. I would never ask you to compromise your morals.” 

“My m-“ _ Fuck your morals, Dean. He’s RIGHT. HERE. He wants this. Your relationship is over anyway, just do it now and end things with Lisa tomorrow. _

By the time he was finished peptalking himself into infidelity, Cass had already slid into bed and rolled away from him. On unsteady feet, Dean followed, and turned his back to Cass as well. _ There’s your sign. Don’t do it. _“Yeah, I … I appreciate that. Goodnight, angel. Thanks for hangin’ out with me.” 

Castiel hummed and fell silent, and Dean laid awake until he heard Cass’s breathing finally even out. He was still half-hard and completely unsure of his decision to leave things as they were, but he knew he’d feel like shit if he cheated on anyone — even Lisa. It just wasn’t how he was built. 

Even still… it was going to be a long night. 


	8. Babe, I'm Gonna Leave You (Led Zeppelin)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, folks. The moment you've all been waiting for. I apologize in advance.

Dean didn’t sleep a whole lot that night. Cass, as it turned out, snored like he was trying to break open the gates of Hell with his voice alone. It was also drafty in that shitty motel room. Dean wasn’t exactly a stranger to that… growing up, he’d spent countless nights in rooms just like this one with his dad and his brother. But those were… different. Like another life. Certainly not something he was used to at this point. 

When the morning sun finally started peeking around the ragged curtains, Dean slid out of bed. He showered and dressed as quietly as he could, packed the few things he’d brought with him, and headed towards the door. He paused for a moment to turn around and glance at Cass one more time - to let his mind wander to what would have happened if he’d had the balls to leave Lisa a year ago. Would he still be in bed, his leg pressed between Cass’s? Was it really the snoring that kept Dean awake, or was it the urge to hold someone that didn’t piss off every fiber of his being? Cass was quiet just then, and Dean could picture himself tracing the line of his jaw… exploring the bare skin hidden by those off-white, coarse sheets. He could imagine sneaking under those very sheets, pulling down those aged sweatpants and -- 

_ Shit. Yeah, good. Awesome. Do a walk of shame with a fuckin’ boner. Open the fucking door, Dean. Walk away. Go home to your girlfriend.  _

_ Or, don’t. He doesn’t know you got up. Crawl back into bed, he looks so… warm.  _

_ No. For fuck’s sake, get in the fucking car.  _

Dean’s jaw was clenched so tightly he thought he might break a tooth as he opened the door as quietly as he could and stepped out into the light. It was way too bright… how the hell long had he stood there staring at him? 

He dropped his bag in Baby’s trunk, got in, and started her up. He took an extra moment to lean his head back against the seat and breathe out, both praising and cussing himself out for leaving without at least writing a note for Cass before grabbing his phone and dialing Charlie. 

A very groggy girl answered the phone. “No.” 

“Charlie, time to move. Where are you?” 

She made a noise somewhere between a huff and a whimper. “I’m in the same motel you and the rockstar are. Couple of doors down, I’ll be out in a minute.” 

“Hurry up, I wanna get the fuck out of here.” He hung up before she could respond and flipped on the radio. 

“ _ Baby, baby, baby I’m gonna leave you… I said baby, you know… I’m gonna leave you…”  _

“Fuck.” 

Of all the songs on all the radio stations in the world, this was the one? He’d never been mad about listening to Zeppelin in his entire life, but whether it was some divine sign from the universe or just really shitty timing, this was not the song Dean needed to hear right now. 

“ _ I ain’t jokin’ woman, I’ve got to ramble… oh yeah. Baby, baby, babe I believin’, we really got to ramble. I can hear it callin’ me the way it used to do…”  _

Or, maybe it was. Dean pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and kept it there to ground him until Charlie finally opened the door and slid in, tossing her bag onto the backseat. 

“So… tell me all about it! How’d it go?” Charlie had a mischievous grin on her face as she spoke, which tanked what was left of Dean’s mood.    
  
“I don’t wanna talk about it.” He put the car in reverse and willed himself not to look back at the motel room door as he turned and drove away. He failed. 

Her face fell. “That bad, huh?” 

“No, no… it was fine. Great. Awesome. Nothing fucking happened. We talked, listened to some music and went to sleep. End of story.” 

“Dean -” 

“That’s all there is to tell. What about you, how’s Asmodeus?”

Charlie grimaced. “Screw that guy, he was a creep. I stayed alone.” 

“We shoulda just stayed together like we planned. I’ll get you the money you spent on the room, okay? I’m sorry you had to do that.” 

She smirked. “Oh, he paid for the room. I just decided not to let him stay with me.” 

“That’s my girl,” Dean grinned. 

Charlie relaxed into the seat and turned up the radio. This was one of the many reasons Dean loved her - she was curious, but knew when Dean needed space to work out his own shit. They drove like that about half the ride home, until Dean decided it was time to actually throw her a bone. 

“I think I’m gonna leave Lisa.” 

Charlie stiffened like she was fighting the urge to jump up and down right in his passenger seat. She cleared her throat. “If you think that’s what’s best, you know I have your back.” 

“I need you to understand that nothing happened with Cass. Almost did… but I didn’t do it. I didn’t cheat.” 

She sat up slowly. “I know, Dean. I knew you wouldn’t, you don’t have to try and convince me. I wouldn’t have let him go back with you if I thought there was any chance you’d actually do it.” 

Shame welled in Dean’s stomach. “I almost did, Charlie. He was right there. If he wouldn’t have rolled over… I don’t know what I would’ve done.” 

“You’d have talked yourself out of it. I know you would have.” 

“How can you be so damn sure?!” The words came out harsher than he’d intended, but she didn’t flinch. 

  
“Because I’ve known you forever and a day, Dean Winchester. You’re a lot of things, but unfaithful isn’t one of them. It’s not in your makeup, I don’t think you have the capability of hurting anyone intentionally, not even Lisa. Whether you see it or not, you’re one of the best people I’ve ever met. So, go home, get ready… we’ve got the last River Rock show of the year this week. Lisa’s supposed to come with us, right? Just talk to her. She has to know, somewhere inside of her, that she lost you a long time ago.” 

All Dean could do was nod, because all of that seemed wrong but he knew Charlie would never listen. By the time they pulled back into Charlie’s, Dean was exhausted in more ways than one. She leaned over and kissed his cheek before sliding out of the car. “I’ll see you in a couple of hours?”

Dean nodded and tried to smile. “Yeah, kiddo. I’ll be back around 4:30.” 

She shut the door and jogged to her front door. Dean ran on autopilot as he once again turned the car around, this time, finally headed home. He was grateful that he never did move in with Lisa; that, at least, was going to make the split easier. If he could even bring himself to do it, that is. This wasn’t the first time he’d thought about leaving her, even convinced himself he was going to. It’d just never worked before. There was always a reason, always an argument for staying. He couldn’t even use Cass as an excuse because nothing  _ had  _ happened, and he’d probably never see or hear from him again. 

When he pulled into the driveway, he saw Lisa’s car.  _ You’ve gotta fuckin’ be kidding me.  _

He smacked the steering wheel with the palm of his hand once he put Baby in park, because seriously? He doesn’t even get 5 minutes to put his shit away before the fight starts? 

He grabbed his bag and headed up the stairs, pausing before he turned the nob and opened the door. He had a million defenses in his head already, as well as a well-rehearsed breakup speech. However, when he stepped in and shut the door behind him, Lisa was crying on the couch. The irritationirritation vanished. 

“Lis? What’s - what’s goin’ on?” 

“You don’t love me.” 

Dean’s bag fell to the ground as his shoulders slumped. “Lisa, that ain’t it, okay? I do love you, I always have. I just… where is this comin’ from?”

“It is, Dean. It’s exactly that. You don’t love me anymore, that’s why you ran off with… whoever the fuck that guy is last night.” 

He clenched his jaw. “Nothin’ happened, Lis. You gotta know that.” 

She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. “I don’t believe you.” 

His conversation with Charlie played in his mind. Someone that really knew him would know he’d never do something like that. “What’re you sayin’, you think I cheated on you?” 

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and stood up abruptly. “Yes, Dean. I’m saying I think you fucked that guy -- or, or -- let him fuck  _ you,  _ I don’t know how the hell you prefer it. That’s why you didn’t come home and why you didn’t answer my calls.” 

“Answer your -- Lisa, you didn’t call me! My phone was on the whole time, look…” he fished in his pocket and pulled out his cell phone, opened his call logs and shoved it at her. “Look. No missed calls from you, last night or this morning. No texts, either.” 

The phone buzzed in his hand, and Lisa’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “Nothing happened, huh? Jesus, Dean.” She angrily pushed his phone back towards him. “That’s really fucking cute.” Tears welled in her eyes again, but from the way she was shaking, they were now from anger more than sadness. 

Confused, he glanced at his phone. There, in beautifully traitorous letters, was a Facebook message from Castiel: 

** _Hey, where’d you go this morning? I was going to get us breakfast, but you’d already gone. I hope I didn’t scare you away with my snoring… not that we slept for very long._ **

There was, truly, a rational explanation for that text. A non-cheating, completely faithful explanation - but he knew she would never, ever listen. Despite him doing the right thing, he was going to get blamed for doing the wrong thing anyway. 

“It is, Dean. It’s exactly that. 

“Lis, I…” 

“Save it, Dean. You finally get what you always fucking wanted… to be  _ alone.”  _ She turned to grab her purse from the couch, and Dean’s brain finally caught up with his mouth. 

“Call him! Call him and ask him, or… or I will. Lisa, you’re right… our relationship is over, but not cause of this. I didn’t - fuck, I didn’t do it, okay? I had the chance to and I didn’t. I wouldn’t do something like that, to you or to anyone… you gotta fuckin’ know that.” The desperation was written all over his face - for her to believe him, for this conversation to be over, for the chance to get in Baby and drive far enough away that he couldn’t hurt anyone ever again. 

“I don’t, Dean. I saw the way you looked at him, the way you absolutely  _ fangirled  _ when he added you on social media. You haven’t touched me in weeks… you know what, Dean?  _ Screw. You.” _

He couldn’t argue with her. All of those points were valid. It didn’t change the truth, but it did make it damn near impossible to convince her of the truth. Hell, he could barely believe he hadn’t actually done anything wrong. At this point, maybe he should have. If he was going to get blamed and hated for it regardless, well… at least if he’d done it, he’d have deserved this. 

“Call him and ask him, Lisa.” 

“No! How stupid do you think I am? I’m sure you two had a real laugh last night talking about your stupid girlfriend and how she’d never find out about what was going on. I’m sure you worked out your stories in case I did… he won’t tell me the truth. I thought you of all people owe me the truth, but I won’t get it from you, either. Now get out of my way, Dean. My things are already in the car, if I forgot anything here… just fucking sell it. I won’t be coming back.” 

Someone may as well have thrown a bucket of ice on Dean. All the warmth in his body snaked down and leaked out through his toes as she stormed past him, slamming the door so hard his body twitched from the noise. 

After an eternity frozen in place, he slowly walked towards the couch and sat down where Lisa had been. He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes until spots erupted on his lids, and then pressed harder. 

_ You should never have even gone. You shoulda set her free ages ago, years even. What the hell is wrong with you? You fuckin’ destroyed one of the only people that ever actually fuckin’ loved you. She’s never gonna forgive you.  _

The rest of the evening found him leaving the couch only to replenish his beer or flip the album on his beat-up turntable. After his seventh beer, he switched to whiskey - and whatever happened after that, he’ll never know. He never texted Cass back, and no one else texted or called him. Lisa had been right… he got what he wanted. He was finally alone. 

And it was fucking awful. 


	9. Absolution Blues (Jimmy Page)

Dean didn’t get out of bed on Sunday. He wasn’t sick, but he definitely felt like shit. The night with Cass, the fight with Lisa… all of it was too much. So, he laid in bed watching horror movies and eating pizza all day, wallowing in self-hatred and a little bit of self-pity. 

He was all the way up to Halloween 5 when Benny called for the third time that night. He sighed and finally answered. 

  
“Yeah?” 

“What the hell is wrong with you, cher? You tell me your going to see this infamous rockstar of yours then drop off the face of the Earth for two days. What happened?” 

Dean took a swig of his beer and scoffed. “Nothin’ and everythin’ all at the same time. Met the guy, hit it off, stayed in the same bed with him, left with a raging fuckin’ hard-on, came home to find Lisa cryin’ her damn eyes out on my couch, got accused of cheatin’ even though I didn’t, got dumped, and have been watchin’ movies all day. There, you’re all caught up. Can we skip the lecture now?” 

“No need to get snarky with me, I was just worried about you. No lectures, ‘cept for maybe the one where I’m gonna remind you to shower and eventually get off your ass.” 

“Gotta work tomorrow, won’t be a problem.” 

Benny sighed, realizing Dean wasn’t in the mood to talk. “Alright, Dean. Call me when you’re feeling better.” 

He hung up the phone and Dean tossed it down, yelling at the girl on the screen that wasn’t running fast enough. He burped from the beer and set it back on the table next to his bed, then pulled another piece of pizza out of the box. 

The night continued much as the day had, and eventually he passed out surrounded by an empty pizza box, his remote, his discarded phone and the remnants of several candy wrappers. He was still unconscious by the time Charlie threw open his bedroom door. 

“Dean, get up.” 

He grunted, hearing her but not wanting to open his eyes. 

“Dean… you’re incredibly, stupidly late. Get up.” 

His eyes shot open and then he realized that he didn’t give a shit if he was late or not. 

“Go away, Charlie. I don’t care.” He rolled over, knocking the pizza box off the bed. 

She was silent for just a moment, and then brightness erupted in the room as she turned on the light. “Okay, I’m confused. One minute you’re begging yourself to break up with Lisa, and when she actually does it  _ for  _ you -- yes, she called me -- you lay in bed and cry about it all night? This isn’t like you. Are you going to tell me what’s really going on, or am I going to have to beat it out of you?” 

Dean groaned and sat up. “Charlie, I’m fine. I need a day off, so friggen sue me. It’s nice to have the place to myself again. How’d you even know I was here?” 

“You’ve never no-showed a day in your life, Dean. When you didn’t show up, Bobby thought something happened to you so he called your mom, who called me when you didn’t answer your phone.” 

“Fuck.” Dean dug around in the blanket until he found his phone, which was dead. “I talked to Benny yesterday and musta forgot to charge it.” He fumbled with the charging cord until it slid into the port and the battery symbol appeared to let him know it was charging. “I’ll call my mom, and Bobby, as soon as it’s got some juice. Okay? Okay. Can I go back to sleep now?” 

Charlie sat down on the edge of the bed. “Seriously, Dean. Are you okay? Do you want me to go get more pizza and we can have a Game of Thrones marathon or something?” 

Dean shook his head. “Nah, Joffrey’s a dick, that show just pisses me off. I’m good, really. Just tired, it’s been a long few months between work and all the Lisa bullshit and concerts and stuff. I’ll be right as rain tomorrow, scout’s honor.” 

“Okay, Dean.” Charlie frowned, and he could tell she didn’t exactly believe him but he didn’t know what else to tell her. He didn’t even understand himself why he felt the way he did, but he sure as hell felt it. She fell silent, and Dean just sat there until the voices in his head were driving him nuts. 

“I just feel like I lost ‘em both, y’know? And for fuckin’ what? I didn’t touch Cass and I hurt Lisa for no damn reason.” 

Charlie reached over and took his hand. “It wasn’t for no reason, Dean. Yeah, sure, it didn’t happen the way you planned, but  _ you  _ know you didn’t do anything wrong, and that’s what matters. Who cares what she needs to tell herself in order to sleep at night? She probably can’t face the fact that she was smothering you and  _ she  _ was the problem here, so she’s grasping at straws for an excuse to make you out to be the bad guy. If she really trusted you, she’d have believed you when you told her you didn’t do anything. And as far as Cass goes, I don’t think you’ve lost him. I’m sure he understood why nothing happened, have you tried to talk to him?” 

Dean shook his head. “Nah, he messaged me but that’s what put the nail in the Lisa coffin. He worded that text like an asshole and it made it look like we were up all night suckin’ each other off. I never responded to him. He probably thinks I’m a jerk.” 

“So when your phone charges, text him back. Tell him you were busy or something and you’re sorry for the late reply, and just  _ talk  _ to him. Lisa’s out of the picture, Dean. There’s nothing stopping you from pursuing this now.” She let go of his hand and flipped around until she was laying on the bed next to him. “I’m sure he’d love to hear from you.” 

“Charlie, don’t be an idiot, alright? That’s my job. There’s no way that guy gives a shit if he ever hears from me again, I was just some guy that promised sex and didn’t come through.” 

She rolled her eyes and groaned. “Dean Winchester, are you  _ ever  _ going to realize what a catch you are? What an impression you make on people? There’s a reason Castiel remembered you from Facebook and then bothered to message you even after he didn’t get laid. You’re stupidly good-looking, you’re funny, smart, and have the best taste in music of anyone he’s probably ever met - and you care about people so much that you’re willing to put yourself through hell just to avoid hurting them. If he doesn’t want to hear from you again, he’s an idiot.” 

“Jeeze, Charlie. Tell me how you  _ really  _ feel.” 

She smacked his arm but grinned. “Shut up. He’s perfect for you, and you’re perfect for him. All I’m asking is that you don’t give up yet. Talk to him, just see what happens.” 

Dean nodded, but inside he was quite sure that was a thing that wasn’t gonna happen. Adorable or not, Dean knew a lost cause when he saw one - and trying to land Castiel Novak was a lost fucking cause. “Yeah, thanks Charlie. I will.” 

“No, you won’t. I guess I’ll just have to hope he’s persistent.” She slid off the bed and took some of the beer bottles he’d missed out to the kitchen. When she returned, she stayed in the doorway. “I’m going to go now and let you… do whatever it is you do in your free time… spare me the details. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? Make sure you go. to. work.” Charlie pointed at him with each of those staccatoed words, and he saluted her. 

“Whatever you say, kiddo.” 

She left, and Dean took Benny’s advice and showered while he waited for his phone to charge. He took a few moments to clean up the mess in his room after he got out, and then turned on his phone. He had eight voicemails, about a dozen text messages, and two Facebook messages from Castiel. 

He clicked on that one first. 

**Castiel: ** I’m sorry if something I said offended you. I had a nice time with you Friday night, and I hope I see you again. I’m playing in Cleveland, OH this weekend if you’re interested… 

The second message was a link to the event page. Dean made a mental note of it, then called his mom. She was concerned and irritated about the fact that he hadn’t answered her, and then proceeded to cry harder than Lisa did when Dean broke the news to her. The conversation was long and horrible and awkward, and Dean once again felt like the shit under someone’s shoe. When he finally got off the phone with her, he called Bobby and went through the same thing again - except Bobby was thrilled he was no longer with Lisa. When that was finished, he cleared his texts, shot one to Sam explaining the breakup, and then re-opened the messages from Castiel. He debated about a million things he could say, and finally chose: 

**Dean: ** You didn’t offend me, man. Just been a long couple of days. I’ll see what’s going on this weekend and let you know. I had fun, too. Sorry I ran out, it was just… safer. 

He hit send before he could change his mind and then crawled back into bed. He made sure this time that his alarm was set and his phone was charging, and promptly passed back out until morning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this one is short, but it's kind of an awkward tipping point and I didn't want to go through the entire conversation with his mom. Hope you all are still enjoying this train wreck, see you soon!


	10. Wish You Were Here (Pink Floyd)

He made it to work, and for the most part he felt back to normal. No one else was jumping down his throat or asking where he’d been, and he was grateful. As it turned out, that spoiled Styne kid wrecked yet another antique car, and Dean spent his entire day working to restore it. Thankfully, this wasn’t as bad as the General Lee wreck, but it was still something he immensely enjoyed doing. By the time he left work, he felt good enough to actually look up that show Cass had mentioned. It was a couple hours away but certainly doable… he got paid that Friday and hotels were easy enough to find up there. He was free of Lisa, and he’d be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t curious what their second meet-up would be like. He briefly considered inviting Charlie, but in the event that he changed his mind, he didn’t want to disappoint her. 

He made a reservation at a motel about a half a mile from the venue he was playing at. This was a full Comfortably Numb show, so he’d have to sit through roughly three hours of Pink Floyd music, but even that didn’t sound unappealing anymore. He was a little worried that Cass wouldn’t even notice he was there, but he’d figure that out when the time came. 

The rest of the week went by slowly. Sammy stopped by for dinner Wednesday evening, and spent the meal grilling Dean about whether or not he was okay. It kind of surprised him that yeah, he really was. Even though the road was rocky as hell and he came out the other side looking like a dick… he got what he wanted. Freedom. Peace. The opportunity to do what he wanted when he wanted, even if that was just spending the evening on the couch watching Iron Man with his hand in his pants. 

He was drained by the time Friday rolled around. It was a week spent getting asked the same questions dozens of times, and he was emotionally spent. He’d gone back and forth a few times on whether or not he was going to bother making the trip to Cleveland, but when he clocked out on Friday, going to see Cass seemed like the only thing that made sense in the world. 

So, he packed his bag and drove to Cleveland. The motel was modest but clean, and Dean settled in before taking a quick shower and pep talking himself into actually going to the show. 

As it turned out, that took a lot longer than he’d anticipated, and he showed up about 5 minutes before the show actually began. He wasn’t sure why it didn’t occur to him until he got there, but he was going to need a ticket to get in, and there was a big fat “SOLD OUT” sign on the marquee. 

“God damnit.” He was about to turn around and go home when the woman at the will call window tapped on it, which caught his attention. He looked over to see what she was doing, and she was waving frantically at him to come closer. Dean approached the window kind of tentatively, thinking she was going to yell at him. “Listen, I know it’s sold out, I was just le-”

“Green eyes, jaw like friggen Adonis himself… you’re Dean Winchester, aren’t you.” 

Dean looked behind him, confused as hell and then looked back at her with wide eyes. “Sorry, we met?” 

“No, sugar. You’re on the list. I’ve had your ticket here all night.” She grabbed a ticket from off to the side and slid it through the hole at the bottom of the window. “Enjoy the show!” 

“But I didn’t  _ buy  _ a ticket, this is a mistake.” He tried to slide the ticket back to her but she shook her head. 

“No, no. You’re on the list. Dean Winchester…” She picked up a clipboard and read, “Eyes greener than a hobbit’s shire and a jaw that makes him look like a god. Will probably show up late because he isn’t sure if he wants to come.” She looked from his eyes to his jaw and finally to the clock and nodded once. “Yep, that’s you. Enjoy the show.” She winked at him and before he could protest any further or even process what she said, she got up from her seat and walked away. 

Dean stared at the ticket, which had some hastily written words at the bottom:  _ I’m glad you came. _

Dean grinned and stared at it long enough that the band started playing inside the concert hall. He had the ticket scanned at the door and then shoved it into his pocket for safekeeping and hurried in, but the place was a madhouse. It was all general admission and the entire room was jam packed, so he was stuck at the very back. He silently cursed himself for being so late and tried to maneuver his way through the crowd to a better spot, but it wasn’t happening. He tried to make himself comfortable near the bar as they played their way through Shine On You Crazy Diamond, and Dean finally caught sight of Cass. He was standing on the right side of the stage, guitar slung low, mouth gloriously close to the microphone. 

“Holy shit,” someone next to him yelled “That guy’s a friggen legend!” 

Dean looked at the speaker and nodded a little. “Yeah, tell me about it!” 

The two watched in stunned silence as Shine On ended, and the entire building shook with the force of the applause that broke out.  _ And this is just the first song… damn, I forgot how good these guys were.  _

Dean watched the rest of the first set from his spot by the bar and when intermission came, he made a decision to fight his way closer to the stage. It was an effort, but enough space was cleared by people grabbing a drink or using the restroom that he got as far as three rows of bodies back from the stage. He kept as far right as he could in order to get the best view of Cass, because let’s be honest… that’s why Dean was there. 

The intermission seemed like it lasted forever, and Dean kept checking his phone as if Cass was going to message him and try to see him - but it didn’t happen. The curtains opened again and the second set started with Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun, which was actually one of Dean’s favorites. He grinned and closed his eyes, letting the melodic beat round out the rougher edges he felt at being there at all. When he opened them again, Cass had switched to bass guitar. Dean figured he should have known Cass could do both, but it was still sort of a surprise. 

A fucking awesome surprise. Those didn’t stop, either. Throughout the course of the next few songs, Dean watched Cass play acoustic, electric, and bass guitar. Not to mention the absolutely angelic vocals that came out of him. It was mesmerizing and impressive and yet again, Dean found himself half-hard just witnessing it. 

Towards the end of the second and final set, the band played their namesake - Comfortably Numb. There was an official lead singer that wasn’t Cass, and he was talented - but not  _ as  _ talented. He typically took the vocal duties of Roger Waters while Cass took David Gilmour’s, which meant that for the song Comfortably Numb, the other singer sang the verses and Cass handled the chorus. 

When he opened his mouth for the first chorus, Dean was instantly in love. It snapped into place inside of him like some kind of stupid, profound bond, and he knew that no matter how this story played out, he’d hear that voice inside of his head forever. He found it almost offensive when the vocals switched back to the other guy, and found himself waiting more impatiently than ever for the second chorus. When it came, it did not disappoint. 

“ _ There is no pain you are receding. A distant ship smoke, on the horizon. You are only coming through in waves… your lips move, but I can’t hear what you’re saying. When I was a child, I caught a fleeting glimpse… out of the corner of my eye…”  _ When Cass sang that last line, his arm extended and he pointed directly at Dean. A dozen faces turned to look at him, and his entire body erupted in goosebumps and fiery red embarrassment. He missed the rest of the chorus entirely but caught the end of the song once his brain finally quit shorting out. 

Occasionally during the rest of the show, he’d catch Cass sneaking glances at him. It’d happened before, but Dean hadn’t realized until the pointing that he was specifically looking at  _ him.  _ Now, it was hard to deny. Dean did his best not to look stupid just bobbing along to the music, but he had no dancing skills and therefore no idea what to do with his hands. It was awkward as hell standing there, only singing half the lyrics because they were songs he didn’t know well when he knew a member of the band was watching him. Awkward, but also pretty fucking cool. 

They ended the main show with that, and then encored with Wish You Were Here, which led to the entire audience singing along. Long-time Floyd fan or not, Dean still knew the words to that one. Again, Cass sought him out more than once, and that coupled with the atmosphere in the room - over a thousand people singing along… Dean felt like he belonged to something for the first time in his life. It felt right in ways that nothing else ever had. 

Too soon, that song ended as well and the band went off stage for real. Dean took his time exiting the venue with his phone glued to his hand, waiting for anything at all from Cass. Nothing came, and Dean figured it was because it takes time to tear down a set like that. He also took his time heading back to his car, and then back to the motel, but still… no word from Cass. He decided he could be the one to reach out, especially because he owed Cass a thank you for the free entry. He pulled out his phone and opened their barely existent conversation thread. 

**Dean: ** Hey man, great show. You guys killed it. Thanks for the free ride, I wouldn’t have been able to get in without it so that was really cool of you. 

_ Sent.  _

Dean waited, and then waited some more. He took another quick shower just to pass the time, checked his phone, got dressed, checked his phone, pulled out his bottle of whiskey and checked his phone again - but still, no response. He hated the thought that he wouldn’t see Cass at all, so he followed it up against every single one of his instincts. 

**Dean: ** I don’t know if you’re stayin’ somewhere or plannin’ to drive back tonight, but I’ve got a motel in the area and you’re welcome to crash with me again if you want. It’s room 111 at the Motel 6. 

_ Sent.  _

And again, the waiting began. There wasn’t much else to do in that motel room, so he turned the TV on to  _ Adult Swim  _ and watched almost a full episode of Family Guy before his exhaustion got the better of him and he fell asleep, phone still in his hand. 

When he woke up the next morning, there was still no response. According to the check mark in the corner, Cass hadn’t even read the messages yet. Dean tried to stop himself from being completely shameful and sad about it, but he wasn’t doing that great of a job as he packed up in silence and checked out of the motel. He found himself looking at the Cleveland sky before getting back in his car and whispering, “what the hell, man?” to the universe as a whole. 

He called Charlie on the way back. When he heard the ringing stop, he spoke before she could even say anything. 

“What the hell is wrong with men? How the hell do women put up with us so much?” 

Charlie cleared her throat. “I wouldn’t know, I barely do it myself. I might swing both ways, but the door slams a lot quicker on dudes than it does chicks. What happened? Where are you, anyway?” 

“On my way back from fucking Cleveland.” 

Charlie paused. “Uhm… okay, what are you doing in Cleveland?” 

“I went to see Cass in Comfortably Numb last night.” 

“You WHAT? How could you not tell me! How’d it go? Did you tell him about Lisa? Was there  _ sex?”  _ The excitement in Charlie’s voice only made Dean more pissed off at the situation. 

“No, there wasn’t. None. Kinda hard to have sex when there’s a security guard and twenty feet between you all night.” 

He took a moment to actually explain to her what happened, and then added, “What the hell am I supposed to do with that? The guy invites me, puts me on the guest list without me even confirming I’m gonna be there, writes a fucking note on my ticket after giving the lady at the will call counter the weirdest description of me I’ve ever heard, points at me in front of 1200 people in the middle of a song and then doesn’t answer his god damn text messages? Seriously? How does that even happen?” 

Charlie spoke quietly after several moments. “Maybe he was busy, Dean. You two didn’t have any set plans, right? Maybe he had to go somewhere else, or maybe it took a really long time to tear down. Just don’t panic yet, alright?” 

“Charlie, if that was the case, don’t you think he coulda said somethin’  _ eventually _ ? He never responded at all. Didn’t even read the damn messages.” 

“I -- shit, I don’t know, Dean. That’s weird as hell. The rest of that story makes it sound like he’s really into you, why wouldn’t he want to see you?”

Dean scoffed. “Again, you friggen tell me. Who knows, maybe he treats all his damn fans like that. Personal invites, handwritten notes and special attention might just be what Cass  _ does.  _ Maybe I misread the entire situation, I dunno. Screw it, I shoulda known better anyway. It was a stupid idea to go.” 

“Dean, stop. Did going make you happy?”

His mind flashed back to watching Cass own the crowd and feeling he got during Wish You Were Here, and he couldn’t lie. “Yeah, I mean… it was cool. Wasn’t as life changing as the first time around, but… yeah.” 

“Okay, then stop it you noob. Just think of it like that, if all else fails… you got a bitchin’ concert out of it.” He heard commotion in the background on Charlie’s end and she added, “I gotta go, Kara’s here. Let me know if he texts you back, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Have fun, kiddo.” He hung up the phone and tossed it on the seat and drove the rest of the way back without looking at it again. 

When he got home, he unpacked his bag and sat down on his couch to watch TV. He put on a movie, and pulled out his phone to finally see if Cass ever responded. To Dean’s wild surprise, he did. 

**Castiel: ** Dean, thank you so much for coming last night. I’m so sorry I didn’t get a chance to see you properly, we didn’t get out of there until almost 4 AM, it takes forever to pack the equipment and instruments up and we don’t have a road crew large enough to handle it for us. I didn’t see your messages until this morning or I would have come to stay with you - I don’t mean this to sound arrogant, but I typically get between 50 and 100 messages after those shows of people giving me their opinion about my playing. I wasn’t expecting to hear from you, so I wasn’t checking my phone. I wish I would have. I have a feeling that seeing you would have been the best part of my day. I’m heading back home to Cincinnati today, but if you’re not busy, would you like to go to lunch? I’m assuming you’ve already left Cleveland so I could come to you on my way back. 

Dean read the message about seven times searching for something that told him it was a lie, or an excuse, or that Cass didn’t mean it. He found nothing, and couldn’t convince himself he didn’t want to see Cass, so he responded. 

**Dean: ** Yeah, man. I get it. I’m free all day if you wanna get somethin’ to eat, you just tell me when. 

**Castiel: ** I’ll be in your area around 3pm, is that alright?

**Dean: ** Yep. I’ll send you the address of this diner I go to a lot. They’ve got pretty decent food.

He followed it up with the address, and Cass sent back a thumbs up emoji. Dean then spent the next hour and a half changing his shirt 4 times and trying to tame his hair, which… actually worked out pretty well. 

When he got to the diner, Cass was already inside at a booth. Dean took the seat across from him and grinned. “Heya, Cass.” 

“Hello, Dean.” 

They made small talk about Cass’s drive until the waitress came to take their orders, and after she returned with their drinks, Dean looked at Cass. “Seriously though… killer job last night. You guys are friggen unbelievable.” 

The corner of Cass’s mouth twitched up. “Thank you, Dean. So many people tell us that, but it’s not often that I think their opinion actually matters. Yours does.” 

“Oh yeah?” Dean’s tongue flirted with the straw in his glass. “Why’s that?”

Cass pretended to contemplate this for a moment, and then shrugged. “Because you have impeccable taste in music, were  _ not  _ a Pink Floyd fan, and… I just genuinely seem to care what you think. About the music, about me… about everything. I can’t really explain why.” 

Dean nodded, thinking about that moment he had at the show the previous night where he was pretty positive he fell in love. “Yeah, no… I uh… I get it. Trust me. I uhh… I care what you think, too.” 

Cass reached over and brushed his hand over Dean’s. “Lisa’s a lucky girl.” 

Dean’s eyes widened because of  _ course  _ he hadn’t told Cass yet. “Oh… we broke up. Last weekend. The day after you and me met, actually.” 

Cass failed to hide his smile. “Oh. I’m so sorry to hear that, Dean.” 

It was so obviously not true that Dean actually laughed. “Yeah, yeah. Shut up. It was a long time comin’, last weekend just happened to be the thing that tipped it over. No big deal.” 

“It is a big deal, Dean.” 

He screwed up his face. “But why? It ain’t like it changed a whole lot, I was barely in that relationship to begin with.” 

“Because, Dean.” Cass looked him directly in the eyes in that way that made Dean think he was staring into his soul. “Now, I don’t have to feel bad when I kiss you before I leave.” 

And there it was, for the second time in two days, Dean’s brain shorted out. The waitress brought their food, buying Dean a couple of extra seconds to get his shit together. He thanked her as she set his plate down and when she walked away, Dean cleared his throat. “Honestly, man. You coulda done it last time and I woulda never said a word. I wanted it, Cass. Wanted you.” 

Castiel nodded and picked up a french fry. “I know you did. And I’m sure you’re aware that feeling was  _ extraordinarily  _ mutual… but I think it was best that we waited. Had we started off with you believing you made a poor decision, this would have been doomed from the beginnning. At least this way, you’ve had a clean break from Lisa and you and I can… see where this goes, naturally. If… that’s something you’re actually interested in, anyway.” 

Dean had taken a bite of his burger as Cass was talking, and he’d never been so proud of himself for having a mouthful of food. All he had to do was nod and choke out a “yep” without spilling meat all over the table, and he succeeded. Cass, to his credit, watched with a smile in his eyes. 

“Good.” 

They ate in silence for awhile, but it wasn’t the type of silence that begged to be filled. It was a familiar, pleasant kind of silence that usually comes when you’re with someone for a very long time and no longer feel the need to fill every second with sound. Dean loved it, he loved everything about this. The setting, the food, the company. The fact that he had the balls to come in the first place. He was exceedingly pleased with himself, right up until Cass said, “Do you actually live around here, then?” 

Dean nodded. “Yeah, got an apartment a few miles from here. You wanna come have a couple drinks after this?” 

The second the words were out of his mouth, part of him wished he could take them back. His apartment was a mess, he was a mess, and Cass still had to get all the way back to Cincinnati - it was ridiculous enough that Dean had allowed him to detour all the way here just for lunch. 

Cass, however, beamed. “I would love that.” 

Dean grinned, a little taken aback. “Yeah?” 

“Of course. I told you I regretted not being able to see you last night. At least seeing you today is making up for it.” 

They continued making small talk, mostly about bands that Cass had either played in or opened for as they ate, and soon enough it was time to get the check and leave. Dean paid for both of them despite Castiel’s protests, and despite all of his grandeur earlier, no kiss came as Dean got into his car to drive back home. He waited until Cass was behind him and ready to follow before pulling out of the parking lot and onto the street, and for the second time in his life, his eyes were glued to the rearview mirror to make sure he wasn’t imagining Cass following him home. 

_ Hell, even if it ain’t real… it’s a pretty damn good dream.  _


	11. Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun (Pink Floyd)

Dean pulled into the parking lot of his apartment building with his heart pretty much beating out of his chest. He half expected Lisa to be there, but she wasn’t - thank the rock gods for small favors. He parked, and as Cass pulled in beside him and shut off his car, Dean suddenly relaxed. 

_ It’s fine, he’s here. It’s still daylight, neither of you are drunk. You can do this, and now, it doesn’t even have ‘groupie’ written anywhere on it. You’re just a guy that invited another dude back to your apartment. You’ve done this before, you can do it again. Go.  _

He got out of the Impala and waited for Cass to join him before making the journey inside and up the stairs. “Uhh… I wasn’t exactly expecting company, y’know? The place is kinda a mess, I’ll… try to clean up real quick when we get up there.” 

Cass chuckled from a couple of stairs behind him. “Dean, I live out of hotel rooms. I’m fairly certain your home is just fine.” 

He grimaced as they got to the top of the stairs and he opened the door, but he was pleased to find that it really wasn’t that bad. Couple of beer cans, a takeout box on the coffee table from a couple nights ago. Nothing he couldn’t clean up. “Yeah, this is it. Home sweet home. Make yourself comfortable, and I don’t care what you say… I’m gonna at least throw out the Kung Pao Chicken.” Dean grabbed the container and the rest of the trash laying around and threw it all away, and then started rearranging things on his counter that didn’t actually need rearranged. 

“Dean.” 

Cass’s voice startled him because it was so damn close to him - he coulda sworn he saw the guy sit down. He turned slowly and there he was, close enough to breathe on. “Y- uh… yeah?” 

“Are you nervous?” 

Dean shook his head quickly, the corners of his mouth turned down. “Who, me? No -” Dean tried to back up a step and knocked over a glass that had been sitting on the counter. Thankfully he only bought plastic cups, so it just loudly echoed through the room as it bounced over the cheap marble. “No, uh… nah. Not nervous. Nope.” He realized he was shaking his head again like an extremely defiant bobblehead, and forced himself to stop. 

To his credit, Cass was smiling. He reached a hand up and placed it on the side of Dean’s face, rubbing his thumb across Dean’s jaw like he had in Norwalk. “Relax, Dean. I came here to see  _ you,  _ not the state of your apartment.” 

Like fucking magic, those small movements of Cass’s thumb over his jaw worked all the tension right out of his body. His shoulders loosened, he stopped gritting his teeth, and his fists unclenched at his sides. 

“Better,” Cass hummed. It was almost a growl, the way the word came out - a satisfied, knowing growl. “The last thing I would ever want to do is make you uncomfortable, and I hope I haven’t done that so far.” 

He shook his head. “Nah, Cass. Sure, you make me nervous as hell sometimes, but it’s a good thing. I’m not uncomfortable.” 

“Good,” Cass answered. “Because I’m starting to really enjoy your company, and I’d hate to think I couldn’t see you again.” 

Dean slowly licked his bottom lip as he searched Cass’s face, still convinced this was a lie. “Yeah? You mean that?” 

He nodded, and then the hand Cass had on his face was around the back of his neck. 

_ Kiss him, for fuck’s sake, kiss him!  _

Dean’s breathing sped up and his entire body was at attention, frozen in place next to his kitchen sink as he tried to convince himself to close the fucking distance and kiss the man standing so damn close to him. 

Cass, as it turned out, didn’t need half the pep-talk that Dean did. Dean’s eyes dropped to Cass’s mouth as Cass leaned in, ghosting his lips over Dean’s. 

_ Oh good, this guy’s a fuckin’ tease. Not today.  _ Dean grabbed a fistful of Cass’s shirt and pulled him back in, crashing their lips together. For a moment, the whole world went silent. The soundtrack of classic rock and bad comebacks that usually played on a loop in Dean’s brain was quiet for the first time in years, and there was nothing on Earth but him and Cass. 

Their lips parted to let the other in, and where Dean expected a fight for dominance, it was all hesitant - slow, exploratory. They took their time with sweeping tongues and roaming hands just getting a feel for each other, and every movement sent waves of electricity up and down Dean’s body. 

Cass was the one to pull away, though he didn’t go far. Calloused, perfect hands found Dean’s face, and Cass tipped their foreheads together as he spoke softly. “I feel like I have waited  _ so  _ long for you, Dean.” 

All he could do was nod. “Yeah, I know the feeling. But I’m here, Cass. I’m right here and I’m not goin’ anywhere, alright? You got me.” Dean pressed his lips to Cass’s again, and then they were moving. Gone was the gentleness of the first kiss, it was replaced by the frenzied need he’d expected. He heard a couple of thumps on their way towards the bedroom but he didn’t give a shit what they broke… Dean was far more concerned with what they were about to  _ fix.  _

Their clothes ended up strewn all over the path they took to Dean’s room, and by the time they collapsed on the bed, there was nothing between them but air. Dean’s fingers traveled over hard, toned muscle down to an ass he was sure he’d never keep his hands off of again, and Cass’s teeth grazed over Dean’s jugular sending a jolt down his body and straight to his cock. 

The next few minutes were filled with a fumble through Dean’s drawer for lube and a condom and Dean’s sudden realization that he had no idea who was about to be fucking who. When Cass flipped Dean over onto his stomach, his question was answered.  _ Holy shit.  _

Dean gripped the sheets underneath his pillow and spread his legs, lifting his hips up in both permission and invitation, and the answering moan it pulled out of Cass was well fucking worth the internal war it took to do it. Dean had never been much for showing off, but if it meant that he was  _ finally  _ gonna get what he wanted, he’d do it again. Warm hands kneaded the globes of his ass, and he pushed back against them. 

“Patience, Dean.” Cass chuckled. “We’ll get there, I don’t want to hurt you.” A single slicked finger slid its way into Dean, and he initially tried to squirm away from it. It had been a long, long time since he’d let anyone have him like this, and with Lisa always around he wasn’t ever able to keep a dildo in his own home. He felt kinda like a virgin. “Shh, Dean. See? You need to relax.” Cass began twisting his finger slowly, and Dean gave a tentative rock backward. This time, he took that finger much easier. The tension eased and he found himself moving quicker until Cass slipped in a second finger. “You’re so good, Dean. I was attracted to you before, but seeing you like this? Exposed and opening up for me so eagerly?” He clicked his tongue and spread his fingers inside of Dean. “I don’t know that I’ve ever seen something more beautiful.” 

Dean’s entire being blushed at the praise and he buried his head in the pillow, mumbling, “c’mon, man” into the fabric. Despite his embarrassment, his body responded remarkably well to the praise, and by the time Cass had three fingers inside of him, he was fucking himself on them like they were an actual cock. 

Cass’s fingers abruptly disappeared, leaving Dean empty and wanting. He whined into the pillow even as he heard Cass’s ragged breathing, knowing he was just as desperate to get there as he was.  _ Slow, Dean. Jesus. Chill out.  _

A few moments later, Cass’s length was nudging its way inside of him. He cried out at the initial stretch that not even three thick fingers could prepare him for, but Cass was right there, body draped over his and whispering encouragement. “Dean, you feel… incredible.” He was sliding in slowly, too slowly, and Dean bit the pillow under his head to keep from outright begging Cass to just fuck him into the mattress already. 

Strong hands slipped under Dean’s chest and pulled him up until their bodies were flushed back to front, and Cass’s lips found the spot on the back left side of Dean’s neck that always sent goosebumps erupting all over his body. From this angle, Dean controlled how fast he sunk down on that thick, pulsing cock - and Dean was done wasting time. He knew in some deep forgotten part of him that Cass wouldn’t hurt him, and that this was  _ right.  _ He lowered himself down completely with a punched out moan as Cass’s arms wrapped around him and one hand found its way to Dean’s face, turning his cheek so Cass could claim his mouth the same way he was claiming the rest of him. 

Dean reached down to stroke his own pulsing, leaking length as Cass began to move. Like with everything else, he went so slow at first that Dean thought he was going to lose his fucking mind, but Cass seemed to be as done waiting as Dean was. Within moments, Cass had a hand splayed across Dean’s stomach to hold him in place and the other looped under Dean’s arm and across his chest and was fucking him so deep that it knocked the breath right out of him with every thrust. His moans turned into gasps, and Cass’s turned into near guttural growls as they inched closer and closer to the edge. 

“Cass - I -  _ shit, man,  _ put me down -” 

He slammed once into Dean and then pulled out, once again leaving Dean with a horrible feeling of emptiness. It didn’t last long, Dean scrambled to flip over onto his back and pulled Cass down to meet him. Their lips met as Dean wrapped his legs around Cass and he thrust back in, and the suddenness of it had Dean biting Cass’s lip harder than he’d planned. Cass pulled back from the kiss but responded by lifting Dean’s waist and fucking him with enough intensity that he was sure his ass was gonna bruise… and he fucking loved it. He reached down to stop his length from smacking over and over again against his own stomach -- not that any part of him was still delusional enough to think he needed the contact in order to cum. Every time Cass’s cock brushed against that little bundle of nerves inside of him, he was pushed closer to cumming untouched all over himself. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t curious, and he knew it would make a hell of an impression on Cass so he was careful not to do anything to help himself along. He heard his own moans grow louder as it became harder to concentrate on anything other than the way Cass was filling him up, replacing that feeling of emptiness that was always with him to something that made him feel complete, and then it was gone  _ again.  _

Dean’s eyes shot open to see Cass looking ragged with need. “Ride me, Dean. I - please.” 

Again, Dean struggled to get his jellied limbs to cooperate long enough for them to switch positions. Cass laid down and Dean was on him in an instant, ass flush with Cass’s hips and Cass’s cock buried in him to the hilt. He leaned back, bracing himself on Cass’s thighs with both hands - partially for balance, but also as an excuse not to touch himself. Dean rocked his hips, ignoring the way his dripping cock bounced as he moved, and Cass’s hands were on his hips urging him faster. Louder, faster, harder… he was seconds from cumming when one of Cass’s hands wrapped around him. He barely had time to swat it away. “Cass - fuck, no, I can - shit, I can do it, just..” He started bouncing, and one more graze of his prostate had him screaming Cass’s name as he came untouched. Cass gasped and then dug his fingers into Dean’s hips, slamming into him twice before burying himself completely as his body arched off the bed and he emptied inside of Dean. 

As Dean came down, he stayed right where he was. They were both dripping sweat and looking bewildered to say the least, staring at each other with wide eyes. Cass spoke first. “Are you - are you alright?” 

Dean just nodded, leaning down to kiss Cass as he pulled off of him. “Perfect, angel. Don’t think I’ve ever been better.” He collapsed on the bed next to Cass, but their limbs remained tangled together. He wasn’t even sure who’s arm he was laying on - his entire body felt light. “It’s uh… gettin’ a little late, maybe... “ he trailed off, for some reason unable to ask what he wanted to ask. 

Cass waited, but when no further sounds came out of Dean’s mouth, he asked, “Maybe what, Dean?” 

He buried his face in Cass’s chest. “It’s just a long drive back to Cincinnati, y’know? Might be better if you just stay till mornin’ or somethin’, I dunno. Have a real bed for once.” 

Cass shifted to face him more directly and kissed his forehead. “I would love to stay.” 

“But?” There was  _ always  _ a but. 

Warm, rough fingertips traced their way down his arm. “No but, Dean. You’re asking me to stay, and I’m saying yes. And thank you. This was… well, you’re better than I could have dreamed, in more ways than one.” 

Dean grinned. “Hey, I told you I was adorable.” 

“That’s not quite what I meant. And after tonight, I don’t think  _ adorable  _ is an appropriate word.” Cass laughed quietly and squeezed Dean, who was rapidly falling asleep. 

“Whatever you say, angel.” 

“Oh? Is that so? Then… I say you’re mine.” 

The words settled into Dean’s chest like they’d always belonged there, and for the first time in as long as he could remember, he was perfectly happy sharing a bed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s all, folks. For the foreseeable future, Time Won’t Let Me will be my only contribution to this fucking incredible site. Hope to see you there :)


	12. Many a Mile to Freedom (Traffic)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As requested, a nice little epilogue.

Dean clocked out of work with a smile on his face. This wasn’t new, most days now he was pretty convinced his face just didn’t remember how to do anything else. Things were good, his mom finally stopped nagging him for a grandkid, Sam graduated and was well on his way to living his dream (which made all the effort Dean put in to get him there  _ beyond  _ worth it), and they hired a new kid at the shop to handle all the routine oil changes and dumb shit Dean was sick to death of doing. Now, he could focus on what he really loved to do - restore classic cars. That bastard Styne kept him in a steady stream of them, and the even better news was, he told all of his equally stupid friends to take their obliterated masterpieces to Dean. Business was booming, so much so that Bobby was talking about opening a second garage just for him. 

Yeah, things couldn’t really get any better. He gathered his things and stopped back at home long enough to shower and load up the car with the bags he’d packed the night before, and then set off to go get Charlie. He pulled into her driveway and grinned wider when she opened the door and visibly struggled with her luggage. He hopped out and helped her put it all in the trunk, but she held tight to a bag making a wonderfully suspicious sound. “Road food?” 

“We’re about to be in this car for like… the next four freaking days, Dean. You didn’t expect me to suffer through it if you got hangry, did you?” Charlie ducked into the car and clicked her seat belt on as Dean laughed, getting in himself and pointing his beautiful Baby in the general direction of the horizon. 

“You know me too well, Charles.” She was right, though, this was about to be the longest road trip they’d ever taken. 36 hours straight through, but they were spreading it over three days. He settled in for the first leg of the drive, the GPS occasionally drowning out a steady stream of Zeppelin, Metallica, Seger and others with directions. 

The first couple of hours were filled with laughter, singing, and enough beef jerky to feed an army, but this was Dean’s happy place. There were very few things in his life that brought him joy the way driving the open road with his best friend did, and the weather couldn’t have been better if he’d paid Mother Nature. His left arm hung out the open window and he flipped his hand in the breeze, grinning to himself at the way the sun reflected off the freshly washed paint of Baby’s hood.    
  


Dean glanced over at his friend and yelled over the noise of the music and wind, “You feel that, Charlie?” She waited for him to continue and he smiled as he looked back at the road. “This is what freedom feels like!” 

And it was. Pure, raw, unfiltered American fucking freedom. He knew he was going to be exhausted by the time they finally arrived at their destination in three days, but it was going to be worth killing himself by driving twelve hours a damn day. Charlie was flying back on Sunday, but Dean? Dean had other plans. He was going to take his time, see the country, have himself a right little coming-of-age/honeymoon kinda tour of the best the continental US had to offer a guy that was literally on top of the world. He’d taken a full two weeks off work for the occasion which Bobby was more than happy to give him. 

Charlie fell asleep somewhere in mid-Indiana. He didn’t mind, he turned the radio down slightly and let himself reminisce on how different his life was just a few years ago. This kind of an impromptu vacation was exactly the sort of thing Lisa hated, and even if she would have agreed to join it would’ve ruined the whole dynamic. He took a deep breath of crisp country air and reveled in the fact that he hadn’t felt suffocated in a long, long time. She’d since gotten remarried and he was happy for her; she was finally with someone that liked being around her every second of every day - he was just sorry it took him so long to let her go. But that was the past, and sometimes it felt like an entirely different life. He was unhappy then in almost every way a person could  _ be  _ unhappy, and now… things were better than he could’ve ever dared to hope for. 

He was tired as hell by the time he pulled into the motel in Kansas City, and he took both his and Charlie’s things inside before coming back out to wake her up. The sun was about to rise and he knew she’d kick him for letting her sleep for so long when  _ he  _ was about to pass out for most of the day, but he’d enjoyed the comfortable silence too much to disturb her. 

As it turned out, he worried for nothing. She wandered inside half asleep and flopped onto the bed still fully dressed. He grinned and took a moment to swap out his jeans for sweatpants before crawling into his own bed and finally falling asleep. 

He woke up several hours later to the sound of someone knocking on the door. Charlie dashed across the room and opened the door quickly, trying to shush the poor visitor. The smell of delicious pizza wafted through the small room and coerced him to sit up, and after they ate, he took a quick shower and reloaded the car. 

Charlie took a moment to stretch before getting back in, and the second leg of the trip went more or less exactly the same. Dean was still on cloud nine, the weather held out, but this time, Charlie actually stayed awake. When the sun set on the second day, Dean was a little more exhausted. He stopped to get gas and when he got back in the car, he groaned when the GPS informed him they still had two hours left until they reached the next motel. 

“This is why we should’ve just flown, you goob.” 

“C’mon, Charles. How long have you known me? I hate planes, I don’t give a shit what’s on the other end - if I can’t get there by driving, I’m not friggin goin’.” He started the car again and dug through his cassettes until he found what he was looking for. He slid it into the tape deck and found his way back to the highway. 

Charlie rolled her eyes. “Okay, but you should at least let me drive for some of it. There’s no rea--”

“Nope. Not a chance, not gonna happen kiddo. Sorry.” There were only two things in the world Dean was overly protective of, and Baby was one of them. “Just enjoy the ride, and remember  _ you  _ technically invited yourself.” 

She mocked him under her breath and then took a sip of her energy drink. “Yeah, but do you really think I was going to let you drive clear to freaking California by yourself? Besides, you’re not the only one that wants to go to this concert. I think it’s going to be awesome.” 

“You’re flying back, so you can’t be that concerned about it.” 

“You won’t be  _ alone  _ on the way back, dumbass.” 

He opened his mouth to argue, but she was right. He wouldn’t be alone, and that was a stupid argument to try to make. His brain wasn’t exactly firing on all cylinders. He shut his mouth and drove the rest of the way to their next stop, Grand Junction, Colorado.

This place was decidedly a lot homier than the one in Kansas City, and the view was damn near perfect. If he wasn’t so tired and in such a hurry, he’d have stopped to do some exploring in the mountains. But he  _ was  _ in a hurry, so the sightseeing would have to wait for the return trip. And as much as he loved Charlie, he couldn’t help but think he’d have better company next time, too. 

He slept like a rock, and this time, Charlie woke him up with the smell of bacon and a greasy, awesome cheeseburger. He ate, showered again so Charlie wouldn’t have to be stuck with sweaty man BO, and once more loaded up the car. He paused when he got in this time and she looked at him questioningly. 

  
“Just kinda weird, y’know? I’m excited and nervous and fuckin’ proud as hell and all kinds of other shit. Next stop, Hollywood.” 

She smiled. “Dean, this is an incredible thing. You have every right to feel all of that.” 

“It’s just… it’s the fuckin’  _ Whisky,  _ right? I’ve been hearing stories about that place since I was old enough for my dad to explain to me who Jimmy Page was. I’m just geeked I’m finally gonna get to go, y’know? I mean sure, it ain’t what it used to be. But once upon a time, bands were made or broken inside the Whisky a Go Go. The whole Sunset Strip, actually. But that place birthed everyone from the Doors to Zepp to fuckin’ Mötley Crüe and just about everyone I’ve ever cared about in between. It’s such a huge piece of rock n roll history.” He started the car and set the GPS one more time.

“And  _ you’re  _ about to live out a rock n roll fantasy?” 

He chuckled at that. “Alright, Bad Company. Calm down over there, I don’t know if I’d… ahh who the hell am I kidding? I’m  _ absolutely  _ about to live out my own personal rock n roll fantasy. And I’m glad you’re gonna be with me, Charles. There’s no one else I’d rather have by my side.” 

“Well  _ duh.  _ And there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” 

That last twelve hour drive seemed to drag on and fly by all at once. His nervous tension built the closer they got to West Hollywood even though his little Whisky adventure wouldn’t take place until the following night. They got to the Montrose Hotel around 3 pm, which all in all was only a couple of hours off of his original goal. They ate and unpacked since they would be staying for a couple of nights, and when Charlie got in the shower, Dean passed out on the bed. 

He stirred a couple of times to return texts or eat something real quick, but he basically slept for the next fifteen hours. When he woke up Saturday morning before the sun came up, he snuck out quietly and pulled up a map on his phone. He saw they were relatively close to North Beverly Park and he drove there, walking around until he found a nice little secluded spot where he could watch the sunrise over southern California. 

It was beautiful, in the way very few things were. He stayed there studying the skyline and the explosion of color that came from it until Charlie called him to ask where the hell he was. To spare himself the chick flick moment, he told her he got lost looking for a burger joint. She seemed to buy it despite it being barely 7 am, and he ended up stopping to grab breakfast for them before heading back. 

He spent the day somewhere between panicked nausea and overbearing excitement, but finally,  _ finally,  _ it was time. He showered and shaved his now scruffy face, choosing to wear his best jeans, his boots, and a slim-fitting Zeppelin t-shirt he’d had since he was a teenager. Hey, if he was gonna fulfill a rock n roll fantasy, the least he could do was pay homage to the best band to ever set foot in the Whisky a Go Go. 

Charlie laughed herself silly when she saw the way that old shirt stretched over his broad chest and thick arms. He was definitely larger than he’d been as a kid, but he didn’t care. He had a feeling he could wear a paper bag and it still wouldn’t taint the night ahead of him. 

It was only about a ten minute walk from the Montrose to the Whisky, so they decided to leave Baby in the safety of the hotel’s parking garage and head there on foot. He triple-checked they had everything they needed, including the tickets, and then spent the entire walk over there telling Charlie about different concert DVDs he owned of legendary bands playing at the near-forgotten venue. She pretended to listen, but he could tell her focus was almost entirely on the never ending train of barely dressed California girls they were passing. He didn’t mind, he was mainly talking to himself anyway. 

When they rounded the corner and the Whisky came into view, Dean’s breath caught in his lungs. He’d seen pictures and videos but never realized just how small it really was. He tried to take himself back 50 years to the time of the greats, wondering what it must have been like for teens and young adults back then that got to witness the birth of some of the greatest things to ever happen to music. 

“Can you imagine, Charlie? Bein’ here back in the 60’s… the 70’s? Hell, even the 80’s. I missed my damn calling.” 

Charlie laughed, apparently paying attention again. “You’re already a groupie, Dean. You didn’t miss that calling.” 

That word stopped irritating him a long time ago. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. Speakin’ of which, the show’s gonna start soon. You ready?” 

“I’ve been ready for four friggin days. Let’s go.” 

Dean paused to take one more look at the outside of the venue he’s been dreaming of going to since he was a kid, and Charlie grabbed his arm and yanked him inside. He dug their tickets out and shifted on his feet as they passed through the guards doing security checks, his anxiety and excitement mounting to near dangerous levels. When they finally made it in, his eyes hungrily swept over their surroundings. There were booths lined up to one side and black metal support beams scattered throughout, and he couldn’t stop himself from wondering how many girls and guys alike attempted to use them as stripper poles when this place was in its prime. It just  _ smelled  _ like the stuff of legends, and every step he took towards the stage reminded him that he was about to become a part of that history, even if it was only a small part no one would likely remember but him. 

The crowd filled out quickly, but Charlie and Dean stuck close to the right-hand side of the stage. The room was permeated with frenzied, excited whispers and he caught snippets of the conversations around him. 

“Can you believe he’s really here?!” 

“Have you  _ seen  _ those eyes?” 

He smiled to himself as his gaze drifted toward the stage just in time for the lights to dim. A fevered hush fell over the room as a tall silhouetted figure appeared on the stage, and Charlie nudged him. “He did it, Dean. Listen to these people, he’s huge!” 

Dean was smiling so wide as the spotlights came on that he thought for sure his face would break in half. “He sure did.” 

The first several songs had people on their feet, crowding the stage and screaming for more. Despite them no longer being cover songs, Dean knew every word and was probably screaming louder than just about anyone. Well, except maybe Charlie. She  _ was  _ the president and founder of the fan club, after all. 

The music did what it always did, it lifted Dean right out of his body and put him in a state of bliss unlike anything he’d ever been able to experience elsewhere. When the guitar faded out and the spotlights danced over the stage, they bounced off the hand still resting on that guitar and sent beams of emerald colored light over the room. 

“Wait, is that a  _ wedding  _ ring?” 

“He’s  _ married?!”  _

The girls around Dean and Charlie sounded like they’d just heard the worst news of their lives. Dean laughed, glancing at the green ring breaking hundreds of hearts simultaneously. 

“Yeah,” Dean said to them as he looked down at the bright blue band around his own finger. “I think it’s new.” 

“And now, if you all will excuse a little break in the regular regime, I’d like to welcome someone to the stage.” His deep voice still sent shivers down Dean’s spine, and his heart jumped nearly into his throat. “There’s a very special guest in the crowd tonight, and I thought it might be nice if he came up here to sing the next song with me. This is the official start to our honeymoon, after all. Dean, come on up.”

Charlie nudged him forward, and Dean locked eyes with Castiel as he joined him on the stage. 

Yeah. Turns out the only thing better than fantasy… was Dean Winchester’s reality. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for the continued support, I love you all. Hope you enjoyed my little rock and roll fantasy :)


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